The First Generation
by S-Michael
Summary: hiatus The story of Isley, Rigald, and Duff...how they became Claymores, how they became Awakened Beings, and why they are the way they are.
1. Prolog: Isley Tells a Story

The First Generation

S-Michael

Prolog:

Isley Tells a Story

They were leaving the ruins of Pieta when they saw the Claymore graveyard. Isley thought about what he should tell Raki when, inevitably, he asked about it. The truth, he decided. (The truth about what this place was, that is; obviously, he wouldn't tell the boy that he had a hand in it.) The question Isley was anticipating never came, though.

"We've got to stop," Raki said. Isley looked at the boy, surprised. The boy's expression was a combination of haunted, worried, concerned, and pleading. It was clear that he knew very well what this place was, and, what was even more remarkable, cared. "Please. We have to stop."

Isley nodded. "Very well." Raki dismounted, and walked amongst the claymores that doubled as gravestones for their owners, warriors of the same name. "What sigil are we looking for?" Isly asked. "What does it look like?" Raki, however, didn't respond. It was clear that he was in another world, a world in which he alone lived and which nothing existed outside of this valley, these gravestones, and this bitter cold. Priscilla moved, but Isley stopped her. "This is something he must do alone."

"No...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no..." Raki reached the end of the graveyard, and breathed a sigh of relief. Isley almost did, as well; every time the boy had said "no," it was in a half-forlorn manner, as if he expected the next sword to mark the grave he feared to find here. "She's not here," Raki said, so relieved that he could barely stand from his knees shaking so badly.

"The one whom you want to be by the side of, but don't want to be a burden to...she is a Claymore, isn't she?" Isley asked.

Raki nodded. "Yeah."

"I've suspected as much all along. 'There's a certain person I want to protect...ah, no. I just want to be by her side. That is why I want enough power to make her not have to worry about me anymore...and if possible, enough power to be able to save that person,'" Isley quoted perfectly Raki's statement from several days before. "_Her._ Now, there are swordswomen, and I don't doubt that a few of them, at least, are quite good. But the way you said it, you seemed skeptical about ever being so strong as to be able to protect her, and being her equal in battle never crossed your mind, or at least seemed not to. And with your resolve to become good, I highly doubt that you'd be satisfied with reaching some pre-self-appointed level of being 'good enough.'

"Tell me, if you know...what was her rank?"

Raki paused, almost as if embarrassed. "Forty-seven."

_Ouch._ Isley's thought must have shown on his face.

"Yes, I know; she's the weakest amongst Claymores," Raki said.

"Forty-seven...that's...wow," Isley said.

"Oh, shut up, would you, Isley," Raki said dryly. "Why did you want to know?"

"Well, someone had to have set up this graveyard," _and it sure as hell wasn't my troops._ "The Organization would not have sent people to do it, as, for one thing, they would be too busy preparing to defend themselves from the onslaught that must surely be coming, and for another, this force was likely to have been comprised of those the Organization wanted to be rid of, to be used as a roadblock," Isley said. "The yoma clearly won this battle, and anyone who fled such a battle would surely have been killed by someone hanging back to catch straglers," _(you did not have to dirty your sword with the blood of your own kind here, did you, Rafaela?)_ "so while whomever did this must have been survivors, there wouldn't have been any survivors...unless the Claymores discovered the trap somehow, and conspired to save their strongest warriors by making them look dead when they weren't." _You failed in your mission, Rigald. If you were still alive, I'd kill you._ "What I was thinking was, if your girlfriend was a particularly high level, we could scour the North and look for her, but forty-seven...she wouldn't be with the survivors. If she's not there, she wasn't here."

"...'the Organization wanted to be rid of'...'roadblock'... My God! That...that's simply dastardly! The Organization is truly abhorrent, to treat people like this!" Raki said, fists clenched and shaking in anger. "How...how dare they?"

"They 'dare' in the name of defending humans from the yoma," Isley said simply.

"That's no excuse!" Raki snapped. "What right have we to survive if this is what it takes?"

"Every animal in the world has a God-given right to do whatever it takes to to ensure its own survival," Isley said. He thought of an old farmer and his wife that he had eaten the other night. Their attempts to escape and fight back were admirable. Futile, but admirable.

Raki sighed. "I guess you're right. Still...the more you tell me, the more I lose my faith in humanity."

_Excellent._ "Whether you chose to believe in humanity or not is not my concern," Isley said. "I simply speak the truth of a situation, or what I suspect the truth to be."

"It isn't fair, you know..."

"Life is not fair," Isley said.

"I know that! Don't you think I realize that shit happens? My family was slaughtered by a yoma, for fuck's sake!" Raki snapped. "What I mean is, the Claymores...they give all they have in the cause of protecting humanity. If they kill even the lowest, evilest piece of shit that dares to call itself human, they are deemed traitor, and are executed. They risk losing their very souls to the beasts inside of them every time they fight. The Organization thinks of them as expendable. And still, everywhere they go, they are feared. Shit happens, but humans supposedly are more that just so much shit, aren't we?" (How elegantly he puts it!) "Do we not have the ability to control our actions? People should at the very least be grateful. The Organization should at the very least respect the sacrifices that Claymores make, both in order to become Claymores and once they have in order to fight yoma and defend humans."

"That was beautifully said," Isley admitted. "We should go; before it gets late."

They rode south for several hours, until the sun was low in the sky. Isley pointed out a cave. "We can stay there for the night. We won't find much better shelter out in the wilderness," _also, there's a town nearby where Priscilla and I can stop for a...bite to eat._ And so they prepared themselves for the night.

It started to snow heavily a bit later, so they took the horses into the cave and lit a fire, cooking dinner on it. It wouldn't be enough to sate either Isley's or Priscilla's appetite, and it would taste bitter, their pallets geared towards something softer and more fleshy and raw, but Raki would get suspicious fast if they never ate in front of him. Man, having a pet incurred a lot of work!

"Clare's not my girlfiend," Raki said.

"Hmm?" Isley said.

"The Claymore, number forty-seven. We're not lovers. You called her my girlfriend earlier, and I was too preocupied with everything else you were saying to be concerned about putting the record straight on that. I'm putting the record straight now," Raki said.

"Too bad. Claymores need love," Isley said.

Raki gave him a funny look. "By any chance, would you have ever met a blind, traveling bard?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Raki said.

"So you're not Clare's boy toy, then? Great! You'll have no qualms about sleeping with Priscilla, then."

"Uh...you see, the thing is..." Raki stumbled over his words, blushing furiously.

"Relax. I'm just kidding with you," Isley said. "You really love her, don't you? Clare, I mean."

Raki sighed. "Yes. I do."

Isley smiled. "I like you, kid. You remind me of myself, to be honest." Then, "Do you know why there aren't any male Claymores?"

"The bard I mentioned earlier said that it was in order to keep Claymores from breeding," Raki said.

"He sounds...knowledgeable. Did you happen to catch his name?" Isley asked.

Raki shook his head. "He didn't give it out."

Isley nodded. "That's for the best, I suppose. After all, the Organization can't like having such information in the hands of someone determined to spread it."

"You don't mean...I mean, that _does_ sound like the Organization at this point, but...Claymores can't kill humans, or else their lives are forfeit," Raki said.

"Claymores aren't the only resource available to the Organization," Isley said.

Raki nodded, then chuckled ironically. "You know, he mentioned two Awakened Beings...you know what those are, right?"

Isley nodded, "The type of yoma that Claymores turn into when they Awaken. Known to the public as Voracious Eaters."

"Somehow, I figured you would," Raki said. "You know, I didn't say anything when you told me your names, but I thought it was quite ironic that those _were_ your names. You see, the names of those Awakened Beings were Priscilla and Isley."

"How do you know that we are not _the_ Priscilla and Isley?" Isley asked.

"Because if you were yoma, you'd have eaten me," Raki said.

"Yoma sometimes have human pets," Isley said reasonably.

"Well...you don't seem like yoma," Raki said.

"Yoma aren't evil, you know. They're simply animals that prey upon humans," Isley said.

"Can't they live on animals?" Raki asked.

"Can't you live on vegitables? If so, why do you eat animals?"

"That's different! We're sentient!" Raki said.

"Is it? Not to a yoma," Isley said.

Raki tried to say something, and couldn't. Priscilla jumped him from behind, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and nuzzling on his ear. "Hey, now! Even _you've_ got to think that that's a little much!" Raki shouted.

Isley chuckled to himself. "Hey, Raki, would you like to hear a story about the Awakened Being Isley?"

"Ooh, goody, a story!" Priscilla said.

"...Sure," Raki capitulated to Priscilla's desires.

"Alright, then," Isley said. "It starts before Isley was an Awakened Being. Before he was a Claymore, in fact. It all started when he was a boy..."


	2. Isley's Last Days as a Human

The First Generation

S-Michael

Chapter 1:

Isley's Last Days as a Human

The night that Isley's life was to change forever the first time seemed like any other night. He had done his daily chores. His father had returned from work, and his mom had dinner ready. His sister had returned home after her date, too. They were sitting, eating dinner, and talking about their day when the world exploded. Or rather, the front door. Before they even had time to react, it had already disemboweled Isley's father, and was shoveling entrails into its mouth. His mom grabbed a frying pan and hit it over its head. The yoma paused, and looked at her incredulously. "Really? A frying pan? For a human without balls, you've got balls." It laughed at it's own joke. "Get it? Without balls? 'Cuz you're a woman? Fine, be that way. In any case, it's time for you to die." The beast snapped her neck, and then it looked at Isley's sister. She had taken up a fighting stance. "Yes, because _that's_ going to work," it said sarcastically. It ripped her guts out and shoved them in its mouth. The whole thing had taken a matter of seconds, and most of that had been the monster's dialog. Then it noticed Isley.

Every fiber in Isley's being had been telling him to run, but he was paralyzed with fear. When the monster looked at him, he wet himself. It laughed. "Relax, little man. You're far too much of a small fry to be worth eating for at least another few years yet. Besides, I have a bountiful harvest right here," it gestured at the corpses. It turned to his sister's corpse, and ripped the guts out of her, swallowing the whole messy bundle whole. "Now _that's_ good eating!" It left. And then, all Isley saw was black.

-

When Isley woke up, he had wished that he hadn't. For one thing his parents were still dead. For another, he had actually passed out next to their disemboweled bodies, and they were still there when he awoke. For yet another, they weren't alone there. Vilagers were holding pitchforks, standing over him. Isley cried, mostly over the fate of his family, but also because he knew what was going to happen to him. It was common practice for yoma to take on the forms of their victims. Not coincidentally, it was common practice for villagers to cast someone out of town if they happened to be the only survivor of a yoma massacre. Harsh and cruel, yes, but they lived in a harsh and cruel world.

Isley begged and pleaded and cried all the way out of town. They turned a deaf ear to him, though. He was tossed into a ditch a fair distance away, and they returned home. Isley lay in that ditch, and waited for the freazing cold of Alphonse to do what the yoma had refuesed to do, and take his life. That wasn't what fate had in store for him, however.

"Hello, there, little one. I followed the, ah, procession out of that city," a man's voice said.

Isley opened his eyes, and looked the man over. He was rather shaky, but not from the cold, and dressed in what seemed to be random pieces of armor. "Your disguise sucks, yoma. Humans don't have silver eyes."

"I'm not a yoma. Well, not precisely," the man said. "There isn't actually a word for what I am." He started to cough violently. "Sorry about that. I am...rather unstable."

"And what do you want, mister there-isn't-actually-a-word-for-what-I-am?"

The man pulled an object off of his back. It turned out to be an improbably sized sword. Isley hadn't seen even the strongest of warriors be able to lift a sword that size in one hand ever in his life, but this thin, skin-and-bones, no-muscles man, who looked like he had barely enough strength to stand (and was strugling even with that, going by how much he was shaking) held the sword like it was nothing. "You, my friend, are captured. You are now property of the Organization, and will be subject to experimentation. The same sort of experimentation that created me, except you won't feel like vomiting every five minutes. I hope for your sake."

"To what end would I want to become a freak? I think I'd rather stay in this ditch," Isley said.

"Don't be such a fucking child, child. Firstly, you don't have a choice. Secondly, as to why you should _want_ to become like me..." he fiddled with something behind him that was below Isley's field of vision. He lifted a carcas of a yoma. "The one that killed your family, I take it? I killed this thing. If you become a 'freak like me,' you will be able to do similar things." He coughed again. "Now don't make me pull you out of that ditch, boy. I'm already nauseous enough as it is."

Isley sat up. "I could use a coat."

The man tossed him his. "Be my guest. I don't need it."

"You sure? You look half dead as it is," Isley said.

"Shut up and come with me," the man said.

Isley stood. He saw that the yoma was on a sled, and that the man was pulling it with a rope. "So, this 'organization'...what's it's name?"

"It doesn't have one," the man said.

"Well, _that's_ ominous. I'm Isley. What's _your_ name?...or don't you have one, either?"

"Arthur," the man said.

"So, you kidnap a lot of children, Arthur?"

"You're not a kidnapped child, you're a captured juvenile vagabond," Arthur said. "And no. But we're always in desperate need of test subjects at the Organization, and you just so happened to happen by. I saved us some good money by finding you."

"Well, bully for you," Isley said dryly.

"Hey, you're getting your ass saved from freezing to death, so don't bitch, Isley," Arthur said.

-

Isley awoke face-to-face with a yoma. He screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Stop your bitching," Arthur said. "I wasn't exactly about to wait around for eight hours while you slept."

It was then that Isley realized that he was laying on the sled...and that the yoma that he was face-to-face with was as quite dead as it was yesterday. "Wait a second...you loaded me onto a sled with the corpse of not just any yoma, but the one who slaughtered my family? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Like I said, I wasn't about to wait around for eight hours. We have to get this yoma to Sutafu before it rots," Arthur said.

"So you dragged me on this thing all night?" Isley asked.

"Ever since you collapsed of exhaustion," Arthur confirmed.

"When do _you_ sleep?" Isley asked.

"Sundays and Wednesdays," Arthur said. Isley did not think that he was joking.

"Seriously—what the hell are you?"

"I told you, there isn't a name for it," Arthur said. "I am a claymore-wielding slayer of yoma, a product of experimentation, of yoma flesh infused into a human body."

"And...are there many, er, people like you?" Isley asked.

"There are nine," Arthur said. "Well, nine that are still alive. There has been a total of thirteen. The first three were created using just any decaying yoma carcass that the Organization could find. Their lives...were not pretty." Arthur shuddered, and it had nothing to do with his usual shakiness. "They did manage to kill some fresh yoma for the rest of us, though, before they died. Before the Organization allowed them to die."

"Gee, they sound like charmers," Isley said dryly. "I'm not going to become a steaming pile of Abomination against God, wishing only for a swift death, am I?"

"No, the Organization is getting better at making us," Arthur said. "Some of us have gone blind, though, and our vision tends to be poor even at the best of times. Fuckin' silver eyes, reflecting light every which way...how the hell is it that that happens, anyway? But I digress. They're getting better. And even if you come out totally messed up, well, even the first ones, may God lay their souls to rest, were capable of killing yoma. And that's what you want to do, right?"

"Yes," Isley said."You may have killed the one that killed my family, but, at the very least, I can slaughter more of his kind...you hear that, you piece of shit? I'm going to consume your flesh, and it'll make me capable of killing others of your kind. You see, _that's_ irony, you unfunny bastard."

Arthur chuckled. "Looks like we have a volunteer for our latest expiriment."

"How do you mean?" Isley asled.

"Why do you think I came all this way to get a yoma? We want to know if the flesh of yoma from different areas have different properties," Arthur said.

"Why would it? Yoma are yoma, aren't they?" Isley asked.

Arthur shrugged. "Who knows? This isn't exactly an exact science, you know." He sighed. "It would have been better to capture this thing alive, but then i'd have to worry about it escaping, and besides, killing it in front of all of those people...what a boost for publicity."

"Wait a second!" Isley shouted, running in front of Arthur and blocking his path. "My people knew that the yoma was dead, and they cast me out anyway?"

"No one is really sure where yoma come from. Some theories state that people can turn into yoma, especially people who survive yoma attacks, or spent a lot of time in the presence of the yoma while it was pretending to be human," Arthur said. "Now will you get out of the way?"

Isley turned around and resumed walking. His stomach rumbled. "Hey, can we eat any time soon?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. Eat. Humans like to do that, don't they?" Arthur asked rhetorically. "Right, then, lets see about getting you some food." He nearly coughed out a lung, and then he drew his sword, holding it outstretched to the right with his eyes closed.

"What are you doing?" Isley asked.

"Shut up and be quiet," Arthur said. After a few minutes, he tossed the claymore in a seemingly-random direction. "Go get it, Isley."

"You want me to fetch your sword? What am I? Your dog?" Isley asked.

"Its attached to your food. Go get it if you want to eat," Arthur said.

"Are you _serious_, you half-yoma psycho?"

"Entirely. Now, why don't you go get your food? If I have to retrieve my sword, I'm leaving the wild boar where it is."

Isley walked away, muttering. He found the sword. And the boar. The sword had gone clean through the boar, and was pinning it to a tree. "Now how in the name of the twin goddesses Clare and Teresa am I to reclaim _that?_" He tried for five minutes to remove the sword from the tree, but he might as well have been trying to pull it from a stone. Arthur showed up and removed it in one clean tug. "Why the hell did you make me do that?"

"For my amusement," Arthur said.

"You're a bastard." Isley retorted.

"Yeah, yeah." Arthur coughed. "You want that, don't you? Better try to carry it."

"What? It's got to be at least fifty pounds," Isley protested.

"I told you that if I have to come and get my sword myself, that I was leaving the pig here," Arthur said reasonably.

"I hate you, you son of a bitch," Isley said, dragging it behind him as he walked.

"Here, let me help you a little," Arthur said. He lifted the animal and he put it on Isley's shoulder, instructing the boy on how to hold it in a fireman's carry. "Trust me, in the long run, this is better."

Isley muttered, shaking as much as Arthur did from the strain of having this animal on him, and somehow managed to get back to the sled. He loaded it on the sled. Normally, the idea of storing his food next to the yoma's corpse would have disgusted him, but he wasn't going to be able to carry it with him.

"I suppose you want to cook it, too?"

"Oh, no, raw is fine," Isley said sarcastically. "In fact, lets leave the meat out for a while, so that it can rot. I just _love_ rotten food."

"Alright then," Arthur said, and started pulling the cart.

"Hey! Stop! You know damn well that I didn't mean it!" Isley cried, chasing after him.

-

"Welcome home, Arthur," said a woman with the same platinum-blonde hair as Arthur and Isley, and the same silver eyes as Arthur.

"Hey, Emily. I got the northern yoma the Organization needed. Also, I picked up a lab rat," Arthur said, slapping Isley on the back.

Emily looked at Isley, who got the feeling that she wasn't really looking at him, at all. "And what's your name?"

"Isley."

"Isley, eh? You sound adorable."

Isley looked at Arthur, who mouthed the word "Blind."

"I heard that," Emily said.

"I didn't say anything," Arthur protested.

"No, but I heard your lips moving," Emily said. "You should know better than to try to keep secrets from me. As I'm sure that Arthur just told you, yes, I am blind, Isley. Hey, Arthur, there's someone you should meet." She called: "Hey, boy!"

A silver-eyed, platinum-haired boy exited the fortress and stood by Emily's side. "This is Duff. He is the perfected model of whatever the hell we are. He has no vision problems, he's not in a constant state of pain, he's not subject to constantly vomiting and shouldn't be to rotting alive or to memory decay, and he eats regularly, if lightly."

"Holy crap! All of those things could happen to me when I become one of you?" Isley demanded.

"Not any more, apparently," Arthur said. "Hey, Emily, this kid is going to get the parts from this yoma, okay? It ate his family, and he seems to think that there would be a grand irony in it being fed to him, or something."

"Alright, he can be the experiment," Emily said.

"Hey, uh...what difference does it make where the yoma comes from?" Isley asked.

"Probably nothing. We won't know for sure until we do it, though," Emily said. "Lets go inside."

Isley followed the half-breeds inside, looking around. They entered a courtyard of sorts, that had about a dozen kids Isley's age in it. A black-haired boy came up to them.

"Excuse me, miss Emily?" he asked.

"What is it, Rigald?" Emily asked.

"Do...what we're about to become...have ranks?" Rigald asked.

"There's nothing official yet, but I suppose that that will change when we have more people. Ideally, there would be one of us for every region on this continent," Emily said.

"Who is the strongest?" Rigald asked.

"I am generally considered to be the strongest," Emily said.

"Then I will become stronger than you!" Rigald proclaimed. "I'll become the strongest warrior ever! I'll become the number one warrior in the Organization!"

"Keep that fire. You're going to need it," Emily said. "Duff, Isley, stay here. Arthur and I have to talk with the powers that be." She and Arthur left.

"So this is the new and improved you, eh, Duff?" Rigald asked. "The perfected half-breed. Well, you don't look like much to me. And who are you? Another half-breed? I've never seen you before, so how did you get ahead of me on the list? I was supposed to be next! And why aren't your eyes silver?"

"I'm human. This is just my natural hair color," Isley said.

"I've never seen anyone like that in my life. What are you, some sort of freak of nature?" Rigald said.

Isley snapped. "Look, you little bastard, I have had a _very_ rough week, and am not in the mood to take your shit, as I've only just met you, and already I don't like you."

"Woop-de-fucking-do, Isley. We've all been through shit. We've all lost family to the yoma. If he hadn't of, none of us would be here," Rigald said. "I'm going to be the strongest ever."

"That doesn't seem like all that difficult a task, there only being nine people competing with you, and they're imperfect," Isley said. "Of course, you'll have no chance of it when _I_ become a warrior."

"You think you can take me?" Rigald asked incredulously. "Just wait and see. You'll be eating my dust."

"Stop fighting, you guys," Duff said.

"Stay out of this, idiot," Rigald said.

"'Idiot?' Have you forgotten what I am?" Duff asked. "Stop fighting before I _make_ you stop fighting."

"Yeah, I suppose you do have us at a disadvantage...for now," Rigald said. "Just wait until we're on equal footing. I'll be stronger than you. I'll be the strongest." He backed down.

"Really aggressive, isn't he?" Isley said.

"Miss Emily says he has the heart of a lion. She says it's what'll make him a good warrior," Duff said.

"Huh. Well, in that case, I swear that I'll never lose to him. Partially because I suppose you're right about it being good to want to be the best, and partially because it'll piss him off. Now, if you'll excuse me, that goddamn Arthur has been making me walk all day until I collapse for the last few days. I need to sit down."

Isley collapsed onto the nearest bench. "Yo," he said to the two people, a boy and a girl, who were already sitting there. "I'm Isley. Isley of Alphonse You?"

"I'm Alexander of...well, somewhere in the West, at any rate," the boy said.

"I'm Venus of Doga," the girl said.

Isley nodded. "So, what do you think of this whole thing?"

Venus shrugged. "Its not as though we have much choice in the matter. Besides...the yoma have made us live in fear for as long as anyone can remember. It's about time someone struck back, for a change. I mean, come on, wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where we weren't afraid all the time? Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where parents could leave their children in the morning and return home in the evening, reasonably certain that they'd still be alive? Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where if someone goes away and doesn't return home in a few weeks, it isn't automatically assumed that he is dead? Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world in which traveling from one town to a neighboring one wasn't a perilous activity? Don't you think?"

"I'm afraid I'm not as forward-thinking as you. I just want to kill them out of vengeance for them killing my family," Isley said.

"Huh," Venus said. "Well, what works, works, I guess."

"What about you?" Isley asked Alexander.

"I don't know," Alexander said. "I should want to kill yoma, right? I mean, yoma killed my family many years ago, after all. The thing is...I don't think I'm strong enough."

"Of course you're not strong enough," Isley said. "None of us are. That's why we're here."

"I mean, strong enough as a person," Alexander said.

Isley opened his mout to speak, but then Arthur appeared. "Come on, Isley, the yoma is being prepped for your transformation."

"What the hell?" Rigald demanded, coming over. "I was scheduled to be next!"

"Yeah, well, Isley's case is experimental," Arthur said. "Those tend to get preferential treatment, as that way we can learn whats worth doing and what's not faster." Cough, cough, cough. Hack. Isley walked with Arthur, and, looking over his shoulder, stuck his tongue out at Rigald. "Try not to be an ass to your future comrades," Arthur said. And then he coughed again. They walked into a room where the yoma Arthur had killed was hanging by its ankles from the ceiling. Its skull had been cut open and the brain removed, its wrists and throat were cut and it was bleeding into a pan on the floor, which was draining into a bucket. "Let me explain to you what's going to happen."

"Do I want to know?" Isley asked.

"Probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyway," Arthur said. Cough. "first we're going to give you a sleeping drought. Then, when you're passed out and can't feel anything, we're going to cut you open and rearrange your entrails, removing your appendix and some other seemingly-useless organs."

"_Seemingly_-useless?" Isley demanded.

"Then we're going to shove a hose down your mouth and pour liquified yoma brains and other choice pieces down into your stomach. If the yoma flesh takes, we're going to put the yoma's blood inside of you by way of a needle in your heart."

"A _needle_ in my _heart???_" Isley demanded.

"Don't worry. After all, Duff survived, didn't he?"

"What happens if the flesh _doesn't_ take?"

"You'll likely die of infection," Arthur said. "That hasn't happen for a while, though."

"Oh, gee, I am _so_ reassured," Isley said sarcastically.

They went into another room. This one had a bed in it. The kind you'd find in a hospice. "Drink this and lay on the bed," Arthur said.

Isley did as he was bid. As he drifted off, he thought of what he was to become. _I'm going to be able to kill yoma_...


	3. The Training of Claymores

_**AN:** I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter. Writers' Block and laziness combined in a most unfortuitous manner._

The First Generation

S-Michael

Chapter 2:

The Training of Claymores

Isley awoke to see a hose snaking its way out of his chest, and screamed.

"God of Rabona, you scream like a girl!" Arthur cursed.

"What...what is this thing?" Isley demanded.

"I told you that we were going to stick a needle in your heart and feed the yoma blood into you," Arthur said.

"This isn't a needle," Isley pointed out the obvious.

"Its hidden by the bandages that are holding it in place," Arthur said.

Isley noticed that most of his torso was bandaged. He also noticed that the hose was attached to a bag that was hanging from a stand next to his bed. "You really had a field day on my body, didn't you? Are you sure that I'm going to survive this? I'm imagining what it must look like down there right now, and, I've got to tell you, what I'm imagining is not the sort of thing that people survive."

"Firstly, what you're imagining is not the sort of thing that people without yoma blood in their veins survive, and secondly, it's much worse than what you're imagining," Arthur said.

"How the hell can you know what I'm imagining?" Isley asked.

"I don't. But whatever you're imagining, the reality is much, much worse," Arthur said. And then he coughed. "Aw, man! Got some blood that time."

"What the hell? It's not an open wound is it? You didn't just rip all the skin off the front of my body so that everyone can see my innards, did you?" Isley demanded.

"It's not quite _that_ bad," Arthur assured him. "Don't get yourself so worked up, though. Your wounds haven't fully closed. So, how do you feel?"

Isley thought about it. "Well, my eyesight is fine. My memory seems to be fine, to...or is it? I don't know. I can't remember forgetting anything...oh my god, 'I can't remember'—"

"I get the picture. Now answer me seriously," Arthur said.

"Mm, kind of numb. There's a dull throbbing pain in my chest area, almost as if someone stabbed a needle of some sort into my heart. Can't imagine what _that_ would be about. In all seriousness, though, there is something...in the base of my stomach, a dull fire, it seems like, except not even remotely like that. It's not really queasy, not really nauseous...it's not really anything. I don't know how to describe it..."

"That's the yoma inside of you," Arthur said. "I'm afraid to say that it will constantly be with you."

"Huh. Small price to pay to be able to fight the yoma, I guess. Hey, can I get something to eat?" Isley asked.

"You don't need food, with the yoma blood still flowing into you," Arthur said. "Besides, your stomach and guts are pretty much shot at the moment."

"What? How do you mean?" Isley demanded.

"You've consumed yoma flesh. That shit does horrible stuff to your guts," Arthur said. "You'll heal—hell, you're healing as we speak—but you'll bare the mark of your transformation your whole life. But enough of this gloomy stuff. I bet you're dying to know what the new you looks like?" Arthur held up a mirror—an expensive mirror, one that was made of glass backed with silver—for Isley to observe himself in. Isley saw his same old face, framed by his same old platinum blond hair, but the eyes of a stranger. Scratch that; the eyes of something that wasn't even human.

"Cool," Isley said. "Hey, what's this hose made out of?"

"A special, water-proof fabric," Arthur said.

Isley, curious to see what the disfiguring mark on his abdomen was, picked at his bandages. Arthur slapped his wrist. "Stop that, boy," he chided.

"I want to see," Isley said.

"You'll see when the bandages come off. If you need to know that badly, though," Arthur took his shirt off. His lower abdomen was a splochy green, yellow, and sometimes purple."

"Is that what _I_ look like right now?" Isley asked.

"Oh, yours is worse. They left your wounds open until the mark showed up, so that they'd be able to change stuff if they did something wrong, and they'd know right away when to stick the needle in your heart. Because, you know, the earlier, the better, but if they do it too early, you'll die," Arthur said.

"Um...what do I do if I've got to pee?"

-

A bald man in a black suit, black hat, and dark glasses whom Isley had never seen before stood next to Emily and addressed the newly-minted half-breeds. Arthur carried a large object over to the bald man. He seemed strained by the weight of it, but then, he always seemed strained by the weight of things, even when he was lifting nothing but air. The object was a large golden box, which seemed to be a foot and a half long by a foot and a half wide, as well as four and a third feet long. Even the lid was surrounded with a rim of pure gold, and on opposite ends of the lid, there were the images of two angel-winged gods unfamiliar to Isley facing one another, their wings spread to cover the the lid. On either side of the box at the base were a pair of golden rings, which looked to be there so that poles might be put through them and the box carried by at least two men. Arthur was half yoma, however, so was able to carry it on his own, no matter how sickly he appeared. He lay the object at the feet of the man in black, and then stood to the side.

"Thank you, Arthur," the man said. "Let me tell you all a story," he addressed the group. "It's the story of how the Organization came to be, how I came to be what I am, and, ultimately, how you came to be what you are. In the Endless Grasslands, there used to be a tribe of nomads. They were a tribe of warriors who, when they killed something...or some_one_...ripped out it's heart and took a bite out of it to gain their power. One day, one of their own was eaten by a yoma. This was unfortunate, but as you all know, this sort of thing happens. Being nomads, they burned the dead body and moved on. The next week, another person was eaten. They burned this body and moved on again, but this time they were suspicious, and when the third body was found the next week, they knew that the yoma must have been one of them.

"And so they did what was costomary for a Grasslands tribe that was being hunted by yoma, and, gathering suplies, they gathered into a single place so that they could keep an eye on one another. No one had any privacy in this arangement, having to answer the call of nature, and even bathe in public. The people slept in shifts, so that there was no way anyone could sneak off when everyone was asleep. All of this was done because, sooner or later, the yoma would get hungry again, and this way they could be assured to have warriors ready when the yoma revealed itself.

"A week went by, and the yoma eventually _did_ reveal itself to have been using the appearance of one of the junior warriors. There was then a great battle, in which many nomads lost their lives, but eventually, the monster was slain. The heart of the monster was ripped from its chest, and the warriors who had fought it and lived each took a bite from it. It made them violently ill, but they survived. It is said that eating the heart of a yoma will grant one eternal life. This story is something that not many take seriously, but it turned out, that it was true. The warriors could still be slain in battle, but they did not take ill, and the older of those warriors ceased to age, while the younger ones aged for only a couple more years before they as well ceased. When this was discovered, the tribe decided to actively hunt yomaa, so that they might all eat of its flesh and become as gods, immortal. For a while, the tribe succeeded in their schemes, but it was only a matter of time until they ran into something they could not face. For you see, they were still men. Immortal, and perhaps a little stronger than most, but still men. The tribe ran into a nest of five yoma, and in their hubris, decided to take them on. Of nearly nine hundred men, women, and children, only six of us survived.

"We swore, the six of us, to do whatever it took to ensure that one day yoma would no longer feed on humans with near-impunity. We swore that day to find a way to strike back. That was the day that the Organization was born." The man gestured at the golden box at his feet. "This was our tribe's Vault of Treasures. Being nomads, we couldn't store our treasures in a set location, so this is where our most valuable and sacred possessions were kept." He removed the lid and set it to the side, revealing that the box (which was actually wood plated with gold—the lid still might have been solid gold, however) was empty. "Since we came to Sutafu, we have had to sell it all. We've watched our resources dwindling steadily down to nothing, but those tides have started to turned. With even just nine of them, warriors of the Organization have gained fame. Imagine what will happen when you, the perfected half-breeds, have become warriors?

"The road ahead of you isn't going to be easy, though. You will train for several years, and then you'll undergo a field test of your suitability as warriors. If you survive, you will, in the traditions of my people, receive a sigil unique to you, that will be your identification, and it will be etched into your swords, which will serve as your grave marker when you die, once we get ourselves a swordsmith. First, you're going to train with broadswords, and then, once you've learned a thing or two, you'll move up to claymores." The man returned the lid to the box. "Arthur, could you return the Vault to the vault?"

"Right away, Rubel," Arthur said, picking up the golden box and walking away.

-

Life was training. Day in, day out. Week in, week out. All day, every day. The cots in the dorms they slept in were uncomfortable, but after the workout they got, they passed out without caring. They slept, they ate, and they trained, with barely a day off. Emily was their trainer, and she was a harsh mistress. Even though she was blind, even amongst all of the clatter, she could tell when someone was slacking off or doing something incorrectly, and who it was. They trained first with broadswords, and later moved on to the claymores that was to be their trademark weapon. They had little free time in which to get to know one another, but Isley learned that a shocking number of them had backstories nearly identical to his own. _What do you expect, though? Yoma are the main makers of orphans in the continent, and besides, the Organization would want people with a personal grudge to be in on this._ The boys and girls who had undergone the transformation into warriors had grown into their teen years together, and still, most of what they knew about one another was about how they fought. There were some friendships, though, and Isley suspected that Venus and Alexander were becoming a bit more than friends, though Isley himself had none.

"Alright, the day has finally come when you prove yourselves worthy of being called a warrior," Rubel said one day. "In the culture of my people, young boys were trained in the art and skills of a hunter and warrior. When their training was complete, they were sent out into the wilderness to hunt a ferocious, wild animal. Usually a bear, or something. Those who survived were considered men when they came back. Usually this is done when the warriors are fourteen, but you've been held back a little because I was worried about your abilities here. You see, what you'll be facing is nothing so nice as a bear." He gazed out onto the forest surrounding Sutafu. "Somewhere in there, there is a yoma. You will find it. You will kill it. Those of you who survive will be warriors when you come back, and in the tradition of my people, will receive your sigil. Arthur will be monitoring your progress from here."

The ten teenagers ran into the forest. "Alright, how do we find this thing?" Isley asked.

"I don't know," said Duff.

"Wait, aren't we supposed to be able to sense the unique energy of yoma?" Rigald asked.

"Everyone, be quiet," Alexander said, closing his eyes. A few moments later, he pointed into the forest. "There," he said.

"That's good enough for me!" Rigald said, rushing off in the direction Alexander pointed. Isley and the others followed in his wake.

Alexander stopped, and the others stopped a few moments later, looking back at him. "I...I don't know. He was _right here_..." A drop of blood hit his cheek. Alexander unconsciously wiped it off, and they all looked up. There was a yoma sitting on the branch above alexander's head, shoving bobcat guts down its gullet.

"You're a rather big family, aren't you? Well, you're obviously new at this, so let me give you a tip: humans don't have silver eyes," the yoma said casually.

For a second, Isley didn't know what in the blue hell the monster was talking about. It reminded him of what he had said to Arthur when they had first met, though...and then he realized what was going on. The creature had sensed their power, and assumed that they were yoma, like itself. "See? I told you, you big idiot!" Isley said, punching Rigald's shoulder.

Rigald caught on. "I'm sorry, brother," he said (annoyed at the fact that he was the screw up in this fictional situation, but keeping it to himself).

"Thank you for your advice, elder," Isley said. "We'll fix our appearance before we reach a human settlement."

"Also, those swords are rather large for you to be holding one-handed. In fact, a human your apparent age with your apparent musculatures would be lucky to be able to lift those things at all," the monster continued.

Thats when Duff caught on to what was going on, long after everyone else had. He burst out laughing. "He thinks we're yoma and doesn't know we're here to kill him!"

"WHAT?" the yoma shouted.

"Duff...you fucking idiot," Rigald said, exasperated. They charged the monster. It extended its fingers and ripped a boy to shreds. "Matt!" Rigald exclaimed.

"There's no time!" Isley shouted before Rigald could change course and go help his friend.

"Right," Rigald said..A boy and a girl charged it in a frontal assult, and the monsters smashed their heads together. Literally. It attacked Duff and Venus simultaneously, and then a girl ran ith through from behind. Ignoring what should have been a mortal wound, it reached behind itself with impressive double-jointedness, grabbed her by the head, and slung her over its head. She broke her neck when she hit the ground. Isley and Rigald both charged it. Isley came from the front.

"You people just don't learn, do you?" the creature asked, catching Isley's blade between its hands.

Rigald cut it's head off from behind. "How's that for learning, fool?" he asked, and spat on the creature's corpse.

Clapping came from nowhere. The survivors looked as one, and saw, with reliefe, that it was just Arthur and Rubel. Arthur was doing the clapping. "Congratulations. You are now warriors," Rubel said. "Bury your dead, and then report back to receive your sigils. Arthur, keep watch here." Rubel walked away.

"Um, right, sir," Arthur said, giving Rubel a curious look.

It took a few hours to bury the dead. "What's with that look you gave Rubel?" asked Isley as they dug together.

Arthur sighed. "I'm worried that he's becoming cynical. When the first three died, he cried like a baby. When Johan died, he was inconsolable for weeks. And now we've got four new dead, and he's not even attending the burial. Don't get me wrong, in the line of work we are in, he's going to have to harden his heart, especially since he's one of the ones who give the orders, but still...it's a damn shame."

Isley grunted noncommittally, and dug some more. Then... "Where's your sigil?"

"Hmm?" Arthur asked.

"I've been hearing so much about sigils, but no one seems to have one," Isley said.

"I wear it under my tunic," Arthur said, and he pulled a piece of cloth though his shirt collar.

When they had finished, Arthur led the six survivors, Isley, Rigald, Duff, Venus, Alexander, and a boy named Van, back to the barracks, where Rubel was waiting with their cloth sigils. Isley fastened his around his neck and tucked it under the shirt the way that Arthur did.. It was comfortable even if it was an awkward and pretty much useless piece of cloth, and seemed to have been made out of silk. Relatively expensive.

"Come on, kids," Arthur said, as soon as they got their sigils. He coughed. "Time for your first night out on the town." He started walking away, and then he turned back. "It would be a good idea to shower before we do this, though. After all, you're covered in sweat, blood, and grave dirt," Arthur added as a distinct afterthought.

-

Back when he was alive, Isley's father spent lots of time in pubs, as well as lots of gold. Once in a while, he brought his children with him, so Isley had an impression of what pubs were like from when he was younger. The impression he had was that pubs were loud, noisy, and rambunctious. The impression he got now was that his earlier impression was, in essence, correct, except that it wasn't as warm and fuzzy as he remembered (partly because of the innocence of youth that he had had then but didn't anymore, and partially because one tends to view better times as better than they were).

"Hey, Arthur, what's with the kids? Are they yours? They look like you, at least in the area around the hair and eyes," the barman said.

"Oh, ha, ha," Arthur said, and then coughed. "No, these kids are the new guys. They just finished their training, and are officially men. Well, except for Venus, here, obviously, but saying she is now a woman has an entirely different connotation." He coughed. "Ouch. Anyway, bring us some ale."

"Aye, Aye," the barman said. "Take yer seats."

"Frederich is a pretty good guy; he treats us like normal people instead of like freaks, so when we come into his bar, we make it a point to splurge," Arthur said.

The barman (Frederich) snorted. "A splurging man o' the Organization still don't consume as much as yer average three-year-old girl."

"Forgive us our small stomachs," Arthur protested sarcastically.

Frederich gave each of them a tankard of ale. "It's real ominous-like, how you-all don't have a name for yourselves," the barman continued.

"Oh, yeah, like I haven't heard _that_ one before," Arthur said. He coughed, and then he took a huge swig of his tankard. "Why don't you guys see if you can't get lucky?"

Isley blushed. "Arthur!"

"What? You're a swordsman who can take on a yoma one-on-one—and _win!_ You've no idea what kind of pick up line that is. Hell, the wenches even like _me_," and then he hacked for a good five seconds, for all the world as if to emphasize the point. "Of course, it'll be a bit harder for you, Venus, as a lot of guys will find you intimidating, but don't fret—Emily can tell you, there's always a few guys in every town for whom it's such a major turn on for a woman to be a lot stronger than they are that they won't mind that deformity on your stomach."

"You talking about me again, Arthur?" Emily asked, appearing silently out of nowhere, as she was wont to do. There was a man hanging on her arm "Hey, Frederich, a bottle of wine and a room."

She left, and Isley noticed that he was now alone with Arthur and Duff. Rigald and Van were both flirting with random women, and Alexander and Venus had gone to a table alone together.

Arthur coughed, and then said, "Why aren't you two getting into the spirit of things?"

"I'm saving myself for true love," Duff said.

"Um, alright," Arthur said, the look on his face clearly saying _idiot_. "And you?"

"Lets go with what he said," Isley said sourly

"Somehow, I'm not convinced," Arthur said dryly.

Isley sighed. "Well...the thing is, my mother and sister were eaten by a yoma..."

"I take it that what you're trying to say is that you can't bring yourself to be with someone fragile, because you'd constantly be afraid of them dying on you?" Arthur said.

"Yeah."

"There's no way you could possibly know that! You ain't never been with a woman, boy—for one thing, you haven't had enough free time to have. If it's true, though, I recommend that you get over that hang-up, as the only kind of woman who isn't 'fragile,' in that sense, is one of us, and there are precious few women in our ranks." Amazingly enough, Arthur didn't cough after saying all of this.

"Hey, Arthur, who was that guy with Emily?"

_**AN:** I might as well clarify, as there will be at least one person who is going to be confused, that Isley was asking after Emily here, and NOT the guy she was with._


	4. Interlude: The Shape of Things to Come

**AN:** Due to popular demand and to keep people from losing interest too quickly (but mainly because my computer crashed when I was almost done with Chapter 3 and I! Don't! Feel! Like! Rewriting! It! Just! Yet!), I am adding this interlude. It is written on WordPad, though, as I haven't installed Microsoft Word onto my computer yet (because I don't own it), and WordPad doesn't have spellcheck (and doesn't automatically capitalize it when i say "i" or begin a new sentence. alas)--I'll be careful, but if I make a mistake or seven, you'll have to be forgiving.

The First Generation

S-Michael

Interlude:

The Shape of Things to Come

Priscilla started snoring on Raki's shoulder. Isley smiled, "I guess that that's going to have to be enough for tonight. Too bad; I was just beginning to touch on romance, and hadn't even gotten to the parts about murder and betrayal."

"I was just beginning to get interested in it, too," Raki said.

"Our destination is still very far away. I'll have many nights to tell this story," Isley said.

"Hey, Isley," said Raki, "I've been meaning to ask..."

"Yeah?"

"Just what, exactly, is the nature of your relationship with Priscilla?" asked Raki.

"Why do you want to know?" teased Isley.

"It's nothing like that!" Raki went on the defensive. "It's just...well, I thought you might be lovers, but then with the way she's all over me...and the way you don't seem to mind about it...I don't know any more."

"We _are_ lovers. But I _don't_ mind the crush she has on you," Isley said.

Raki shook his head. "That doesn't make sense," he said.

Isley smiled crookedly. "It's just the way I am, I guess. To say I'm not the jealous type would be to make a massive understatement. It simply doesn't bother me. I guess we're swingers."

"You _guess?_"

Isley smiled again, and shrugged. "We never officially discussed it."

"Huh," Raki said, stoking the fire (gently, so as to not awaken Priscilla).

"You should get some sleep. I'll take the first watch," Isley said.

"First watch?"

"Yeah. You're not traveling with a Claymore anymore. Us humans have to be careful of things like wild animals, bandits, even the stray yoma every now and then," Isley said. Upon seeing Raki's eyes widen, he added, "Don't worry, yoma that go after humans tend to go after groups much larger than the three of us."

"Oh," Raki said. He gently lowered himself to the ground, managing not to drop Priscilla, and pulled a blanket over them. Isley moved to sit by the cave enterance. "I'm not like you," Raki said.

"Pardon me?" Isley asked.

"I'm not a swinger," Raki said. "I can't see myself ever being with anyone other than Clare. She...she is my savior, the center of my world. I don't mean to imply that what you two feel for each other is less than what I feel for her--"

"Don't worry, I understand," Isley assured him. "As for you not being with anyone but Clare...well, we'll see. The future is unknowable, after all."

Isley sat by the cave entrance, slowly feeding logs to the fire, until he was sure that Raki was asleep. "Well, are we going, Priscilla?"

Priscilla got up, undressed, and transformed. It was strange, how it wasn't just her body that was capable of transformation, but her personality as well. The most powerful being in the universe was mentally unbalanced. Whatever the case, though, this purple-skinned, winged, one-horned creature was the woman he loved. "I want to eat some guts," Priscilla said.

"Well, then, by all means, let us eat," Isley said, taking off his coat to keep it from getting bloody. He put a few more logs on the fire in order to keep Raki warm, and then the two Awakened Beings left the human boy in the cave while they hunted. Priscilla grabbed him under his arms, and flew to the town that Isley had known was nearby. It wasn't down the road, for their path skirted cities, towns, and other large human settlements, but rather half a mile to the east, hidden by forest.

"You really don't mind Raki?" Priscilla asked.

"I didn't kill him, did I?" Isley retorted. "It's like I told him while you were pretending to be asleep, I really don't mind, as long as you're honest with me. Although, if you want to have a pet, you're going to have to take care of him."

"Oh, I promise that I'll take _very_ good care of him," Priscilla said.

Isley laughed.

"So, do you think that this plan of yours is going to work?" Priscilla asked.

"Oh, I am sure of it," Isley said. "You are already the strongest being in the world. The only way that you can be defeated is if Riful and Luciella join forces. As soon as I kill Luciella, there will be no one in this world who can stand against you."

They touched down in town, and started walking down a random street. "You seem to come back to that point a lot whenever we talk about this. What's with that?" Priscilla asked. "Its almost like you're obsessed with the concept."

"I...lost people who were important to me," Isley said.

"Your family, from when you were human?" Priscilla asked.

"Yes and no," Isley said. "They were part of it, but there were others...people who weren't defenseless by any stretch of the imagination, people who should have been able to defend themselves."

"Wanna tell me about it?" Priscilla asked.

"I could, but wouldn't you rather not know how the story I'm telling you and Raki ends? It would spoil the surprise," Isley teased.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Priscilla said.

They walked in silence for half a minute. "Hey," Isley said.

"Yeah?" Priscilla asked.

"I...might not be able to beat Luciella on my own," Isley said. "If it looks like I'm not going to make it, I want you to step in."

"Right," Priscilla said. She stopped in front of a house. "This place looks nice. Lets eat here."

"Sure, why not?" Isley said. They walked to the front door of the house, and Isley ripped it off its hinges, easily tossing the heavy wooden door aside. "Lets try to keep it covert. It's just less of a headache that way."

"Yeah, yeah," Priscilla said, leading the way into the house. She found the master bedroom, where a middle-aged couple were asleep, unaware that their home had been invaded. Isley skillfully snapped their necks, killing them instantly and painlessly, and then the two Awakened Beings fed. Sweet, sweet human guts, like nothing else that existed. Many humans thought that pork was the best meat that there was, but human meat was much better, though similar. Guts, so soft and fleshy, and juicy. The taste was simply orgasmic--this is why so many yoma risked their lives in pursuit of this prize.

"There ought to be children, in a house like this," Isley mentioned, blood dripping down his lower face, neck, and upper torso. "We might as well gorge ourselves while we're here." Priscilla nodded, and together, they stalked down the hall together. Isley entered a bedroom, that turned out to be empty of occupant. There was a bed, and a few boxes filled with what appeared to be personal possessions. _Someone moved out recently._ How sweet. A child getting married, or a young man off to seek adventure. Ah, well. Isley moved on to the next room. Male child, about Raki's age. Isley snapped his neck and feasted on his guts. Then he left the room.

"The house is emptied. There were two other children," Priscilla said.

"You're greedy," Isley accused blithely. Though there wasn't a lamp on in the house or in the street outside of it, they could see as clear as day, and Isley noticed Priscilla's blood-soaked, naked body and the predatory gleam in her eyes, and suddenly realized he had to have her now. He quickly (and carefully, so as to not get blood on them) removed his pants, the only article of clothing he was wearing, and then, in the darkened house of death in the dead of night, surrounded by the corpses and maybe the ghosts of those they had murdered, they did the deed.

They later washed the blood (and other fluids) from their bodies with snow from out in the yard, and then dried themselves with whatever clean fabric they could find. Isley put his pants back on, and then they left the house. Priscilla picked him up and they flew back to the cave, much the same way that they had flown here in the first place. Isley could have transformed and make the run himself either time, but hey, why bother?

They landed, and Priscilla transformed, putting her clothes back on, and, once she had warmed her body by the fire for a few minutes so as not to disturb Raki when she cralled into "bed" with him, cozied up next to him, and closed her eyes. Isley went out of the cave to check positions of the stars in the sky. _Hmm, it's later than I thought._ After a couple of hours, Isley made sure that there were no wild animals, bandits, or anything else near enough to cause them any problems for the rest of the night, and then he woke Raki. "As cute as you two look together, it's your shift."

"Hmm?" Raki mumbled groggily. "Oh. Right." He gently disentangled himself from Priscilla, stretched, rubbed his eyes, and stood. He walked towards where Isley had been keeping guard, while Isley took Raki's place next to Priscilla. Raki fed wood to the fire to keep it going, and kept an eye to the wilderness, but it seemed as if there weren't any living thing for miles around, much less anything that would want to threaten the three travelers. He looked at the two sleepers. _A big steaming pile of conundrum,_ thought Raki. _What the hell are you guys?_ Isley had mentioned that (the other) Isley had also had Claymore-colored hair. Could be a coincidence. Hell, Isley might even be making that part up, just to mess with Raki's head. But then...it was rather unusual, for a human to have hair like that. Isley's hair was the sort of white-blond that sometimes children had before their hair darkened to brown. Raki had only ever seen a handful of children with hair like that, and, until Isley came along, no adults (well, no human adults). Surely, it wasn't impossible, or else the medicine that Claymores used to change their eye color would only make an effective disguise for those of them with the darkest shade of hair. Still...say that Isley the Awakened Being and this Isley were one and the same? Say that Isley had been one of those children with the white-blond hair that later turns brown, and that when he awakened, he chose to base his human appearance on what he had looked like as a child? _Oh, come on! You don't even know that it works like that!_ Still, yoma could look like anyone they wanted to, after all. And Isley's hair was hardly the only suspicious thing about these two. They seemed to have somehow sensed the battle that created that Claymore graveyard in Pieta. _Stop being so goddamn paranoid! Isley and Priscilla are the first friends you've made in months!_ Raik sighed. It was probably best to put it out of his mind for now; he didn't have enough information, and all he'd get was a headache.

Raki decided to think instead about Clare. "I'm going to find you, Clare." But how? Well, since she wasn't in Alphonse, according to Isley's logic, they were at least traveling in the right direction. That was some small comfort. But not a lot. He needed a plan. Perhaps he could go to Sutafu, to the headquarters of the Organization, and simply ask after her? That might work. Then again, between the blind storyteller of months ago and what Isley had been saying for days (has it been weeks yet?), Raki wasn't so sure the Organization would help him. He wasn't sure he could trust the men in black as far as he could throw them. _But then, if Priscilla is _the_ Priscilla, Clare will eventually find us._ Raki shook himself. How could he think of his new friends like that? He shouldn't even be _contemplating_ using them so callously! The idea of Clare standing over the corpses of his new friends was frightening. _But it might be a possibility. Will you still love her, if her hands were stained with the blood of your friends?_ The answer was, probably, yes. And ironically, this was as much due to Isley's influence as it was due to his blind loyalty to Clare. Isley's pseudo-zenlike approach to the cruel realities and necessities of life was begining to rub off on Raki; if killing this Priscilla was something that Clare had to do, then it was something that she had to do, and Raki was either going to have to live with it, or not. Of course, the inverse of that thought was that, if Priscilla managed to kill Clare...Raki shuddered. There were no easy answers in life. _Don't get ahead of yourself. These people probably aren't the Awakened Beings they share the names of. And if they are_..._just worry about one thing at a time, okay? Just worry about one thing at a time, let the future take care of itself, and when the hard decisions come_..._well, you've got to do what you've got to do._ Yeah. That's what Isley would do.

The hours slowly passed, and the sun came up over the eastern horizon, bringing the dawn. Raki admired the beautiful view of the winter landscape at dawn, the pristine snow, the bone bare and windswept branches of the trees of the forest, the rocky cliff around him, and, if he squinted in the direction of the dawn, he thought he could see several plumes of smoke, signifying the existence of a city or town of some sort in that direction. And then Priscilla suddenly jumped him. "Hey," Raki protested, but at this point in time, his protests were beginning to get rather half-hearted. _How much longer will you continue to protest at all?_ something inside of him asked with Isley's voice. _Shut up,_ said the other part of him.

"You've got to be gentler when you get up if you don't want to awaken the person you're sleeping with, Priscilla," Isley said, throwing a coat on and coming out of the cave. "Wow. That's pretty."

"I thought so," Raki said. The three stood in silence for a moment.

"Well, I guess as long as we're all up, we'd better eat breakfast and get going," Isley said. They had a light breakfast of rations, and then Isley brought the horses out from the depths of the cave, and they began to ride again. They rode until the sun was high in the sky, and then they stopped at a stream to feed and water their horses, as well as to eat lunch themselves and fill their canteens.

Once they had eaten, Raki unsheathed his sword. "I feel like another lesson."

"Regular glutton for punishment, aren't you?" said Isley.

"'Everyone wants to go to Heaven, but don't nobody want to die,'" Raki said.

"Heaven's overrated--and what has that have to do with anything?" asked Isley.

"Something a priest in my home town once said. It's an allusion to how people want things, but don't want to do the work to get it," Raki said. "I'm not one of those people who want to go to Heaven but don't want to die. I'm going to do my very best, and become as strong as I can, no matter what it takes."

"Admirable dedication," Isley said, unsheathing his sword, "but remember that this is just a means to an end for you. There really ought to be at most one thing in a person's life one would give up anything for--after all, what if you end up having to give everything else up in order to have that one thing?" Isley took up a stance. "Now, then, prepare yourself, and don't worry; I'm not going to send you to Heaven just yet."

-

Several hours later, they again settled for the night. When Raki hopped off of his horse, he groaned. He was still in pain from his sparring match with Isley, and when combined with saddle sore, it didn't make for a nice sensation. Still, he didn't complain when they had to set up camp, and Raki pulled his weight. Soon, their camp was complete, and they made a campfire. "Story time," said Priscilla.

"Huh? Oh, right," Isley said. "I suppose that I _did_ promise you all a story. Where was I?"

"You--I mean, Isley had just asked Arthur if Emily was available, or something like that," Raki said.

"That was a rhetorical question," Isley said. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah..."


	5. Isley's First Mission

_**AN: **__Still using WordPad._

The First Generation

S-Michael

Chapter 3:

Isley's First Mission

"Hey, Arthur, who was that guy with Emily?" Isley asked.

"Emily?" Cough. "Are you serious?" asked Arthur.

"Any reason I shouldn't?" asked Isley.

"Well, no, I suppose not," said Arthur. "Still, with all of the lovely lasses who'll be throwing themselves at your feet now that you're a warrior of the Organization--"

"We just went over this not five seconds ago," Isley said.

"Yeah, alright," Arthur said.

"So, what do I need to know?" Isley asked.

Arthur coughed. "What makes you think I know how to get into her pants?"

"You're right, I'm sorry," Isley said.

"Alright, I'll tell you." Cough, cough, cough. "You know that girls like to be given things, right? Flowers, jewelry, etcetera?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Yeah, well, Emily fucking hates it, so don't," Arthur said, and coughed some more. "Oh, gag me, is that phlegm?" He wiped his fist off onto his clothes, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Anyway, as I was saying, don't. You give Emily flowers, she'll shove 'em down your throat--with something else very dear to you alongside."

"Right. No flowers or gifts of any kind," Isley said. "What about birthdays?"

"Warriors of the Organization don't celebrate birthdays," Arthur said.

"Huh. I thought it was just me," Isley said.

"No, it's all of us. Anyway, as I was saying...what was I saying? Right; also, you're going to want to be cute, witty, or smart and sensitive, preferably all three. If I were you, I'd play it on my looks," Arthur smirked.

"Oh, ha-ha. I'm not as empty-headed as you think I am," Isley said.

"And I swear to drunk I'm not God," Arthur said, and then coughed. "Damn, for a second there, I thought I was about to set a personal record." And then he coughed again. "Well, You're going to want to get on her good side, but don't be chivalrous and shit. That annoys her, too." Arthur went into a coughing fit. "Come to think of it, a lot of things piss that woman off. The main thing, I guess, is that...well, I don't want to say that she's easy, it's not like that, not really, but...well, either you'll get somewhere or you won't, and you'll realize pretty early on whether or not you're getting somewhere." He coughed again. "She's fast-paced, I guess I'll say. As a matter of fact, you'll know where you're getting, too, whether she expects it to be a long-term relationship or a one-night stand."

"Right," said Isley, finishing his ale.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something...oh, yeah: she's a cheating bitch," Arthur said, without a trace of resentment.

"Huh?" asked Isley.

"We all are," Arthur said patronizingly. "It comes with the territory, I guess. When you face death on a regular basis, you take your pleasure where you can get it. Speaking of taking your pleasure where you can get it--"

"How many times must I tell you that cheap bar sluts don't interest me?" retorted Isley.

"Alright, alright," relented Arthur.

-

Isley was summoned into Rubel's office. Van was there with Rubel, and so was a human boy about Isley's age. "Yes, sir?" asked Isley.

"You and Van have a mission," Rubel said.

"What, together?" Isley asked.

"Yes, together," said Rubel. "We don't actually know how strong you guys are, so we're not taking chances. Any problems with that?"

"Well, no, I guess not," said Isley.

"The two of you will accompany this gentleman back to his hometown, and there you will seek out and destroy the yoma that is plaguing it," said Rubel. "See to it that he has everything he needs for the journey, and then leave at once.

"Aye, aye, mon cap-y-tan," said Van, giving him a mock salute.

Rubel glared at him from behind his dark yellow sun glasses. "Take a claymore and go."

Isley and Van each took a giant sword from Rubel's wall, and then they left. "That was unnecessary," said Isley to Van.

"Maybe so, but it annoyed the boss and made me feel happy," Van said, grinning. "Oh, don't be a spoil sport."

"Look, Van--"

"Could you two maybe not bicker while you're on the job?" the messenger asked sarcastically. "I'd like to think that my village isn't wasting the money we're spending on you."

Van grinned evilly, "Hey, you don't have to pay up if we fail for whatever reason, so why do you care?"

"Van, for the love of the gods, shut up," Isley said."You got everything you need, guy?"

"Yeah, I brought enough rations for the trip here and back," the messenger said.

"Well, lets not keep your people waiting, then. Lead the way," said Isley.

-

"So, how long are we going to continue up this way?" Isley asked as they made camp for the night.

The messenger thought on it. "Day and a half, maybe two."

"Are there any notable landmarks near it?" Isley asked.

"Why?"

"No reason."

The messenger thought. "When I was coming this way, the on the crossroads after it, the sign pointing to Sutafu was spelled wrong. Are you guys sure I shouldn't take the first watch?"

"Sleep is for humans," Vash said mock-derisively.

"We don't need much of it," Isley added.

"If you say so. 'Night." The messenger was out within minutes, and then Van and Isley looked at each other and nodded. Isley picked up the sleeping human like a groom carying his bride over the threshold of their marriage house for the first time, while Van cleaned up the camp site and put out the fire. They then started down the road at a pace more natural to them, now that they didn't have to wait on a human dragging down their traveling speed.

They moved unmolested through the forest at night, until they came across a yoma digging into a dead body. They froze. the yoma lifted its head from the human entrails, staring at them with its golden eyes, and froze, too. For a second, it seemed as if time froze. Then Van drastically increased his output of yoma energy, and decreased it again. The yoma fled.

"Wow, how did you do that?" Isley asked.

Van shrugged. "It was nothing. Most animals respond to some sort of show of dominance or another. I simply told it to 'get lost' in a language it would understand." Van approached the dead body, reached inside, and pulled out a length of intestine. He looked at Isley, grinning maniacally. "Hey, have you ever wondered why yoma love this stuff so much?"

"No, actually," said Isley,queasy just at the thought of it.

"I think we should find out, don't you?" led Van. His grin widened. "Dare me to take a bite out of this?"

"Hell, no!" declared Isley. "What are you, insane? That's a human being you're talking about, not some sort of wild animal."

"Bah, he doesn't mind, do you, buddy?" Van bent down.

"Van, I swear to God, if you start doing ventriloquism with that corpse's head, I will drop this guy and proceed with kicking your ass," Isley warned.

Van stood. "Bah. You know me too well." And then they were off again. They traveled in silence, as they had before, but it was a tenser silence than before. Eventually, the sun came up, and they came upon yet another distraction. There was a group of bandits in the road. Clare and Teresa, what now?

"Halt. You've got to pay a toll if you want to come through here," said one of the bandits.

"We don't have to pay you jack shit," Van scoffed.

Isley sighed. "Trust me, we're not the kind of people you want to fuck with," he said.

"Boss, look at their eyes," the one to the left of the one who had spoken mumbled.

"Yeah, our eyes are silver," Isley said disinterestedly.

"It's a trick of the morning light," the bandit leader said.

"Then how would I know what our eyes look like, genius?" Isley retorted.

"I've heard about silver-eyed warlocks who hunt yoma," the second speaker said.

"Hey, look, our reputation is starting to get out there," said Van hapilly.

"Bah, those are just stories," the bandit leader said.

"We ought to kill them just for being so stupid," Van said.

"What did you just say?" the bandit leader asked incredulously.

"He means, even if you're skeptical to us being 'silver-eyed warlocks,' you should at least realize that silver is not a natural color for a human eye, and therefore, we're not human," Isley said. "Tell me, gentlemen, what sort of non-human creature is known to exist and can take on the guise of a human being? I ask you."

"Do you seriously expect me to believe that you're a yoma?" the bandit leader laughed.

"Hey, he does have some braincells, after all!" Vash said, surprised. "Not many, but some."

"No, I'm saying that you should assume that that's what I am if you don't believe me to be a claymore-weilding, silver-eyed slayer of yoma. Honestly, how did you survive this long with those piss poor survival instincts?" demanded Isley.

"I think you're just a freak," the bandit leader said.

"Maybe you do. I suppose that, from your perspective, it's even possible that you're right--you're not, of course, but then, I would say that--but tell me, though: Do you really want to risk your life and the lives of your men on it?" asked Isley.

"He's bluffing--" the bandit leader began, but then was interrupted by a scream. All eyes went to where Vash had literally pulled a bandit's intestines out with his bare hands--or rather, bare hand, for his right hand was covered with gore, but his left was clean.

"What? Listening to you two go back and forth was getting boring," Van said.

"Jimmy!" one of the bandits shouted, and ran at Van with a dagger out.

"Yeah, because that's going to work," mumbled Van before sidestepping his swing in a blink of an eye and using the intestines in his hand as a makeshift rope, choking the life out of his second bandit kill in as many seconds with the macabre weapon. It was now that the other bandits realized that they didn't stand a chance, and started running. "Don't run! I'm just going to come after you!" he shouted after them.

"That's not part of our job description," Isley said. Adding: "Why didn't you just use your sword?"

"Aw, that wouldn't have been any fun," Van said.

How did I get stuck with this psycho? Isley wondered. "Whatever. Just clean your hands, and lets go."

"You ain't the boss of me," Van said, doing as Isley bid.

"What the hell is going on?" the messenger asked groggily.

"You're up, huh?" said Isley.

"Of course I'm up. Did you expect me to sleep through that racket? Put me down!" ordered the messenger. "Great, now I don't know where we are. How are we supposed to find my village now, geniuses?"

"Genii," Van corrected him.

"We haven't come across that signpost you mentioned last night yet, and expect to come across it within the next hour or so," Isley said.

"Of course, that was if you were still asleep, but now that you're awake and insist on slowing us down to your human pace--" said Van.

"Shut up," said the messenger, leading the way down the road, the two warriors of the Organization in tow.

"So...'Silver-Eyed-Warlock,' huh?" mused Van. "I like it."

"I can take it or leave it," Isley said. Then he realized something: "What could it possibly matter how 'cute' I am? She's blind."

"Emily probably has other ways of sensing it, just like she can sense when we try to strike her with our swords," Van said.

"How can you possibly know what I'm talking about?" Isley asked.

"Do you know any other blind women I don't know about?" Van asked.

"Actually, I think one of the other four blind warriors is a woman," Isley said.

"Yeah, and she shakes as bad as Arthur--talk about the worst of both worlds," Van said. "Still, point taken, I guess--except for the fact that you said you think one of them was a woman."

"You couldn't know that I wasn't sure," Isley said defensively.

Van grunted. "Of course, it could also be that Arthur was messing with you," he added.

"Okay, and how in the blue hell could you possibly know that one?" Isley demanded.

"The two of you were talking about something pretty intensely last night," Van said.

"My, aren't you just the regular little detective," Isley said derisively.

Van smiled at him. "Am I getting under your skin? Whyever so?"

"What, you want me to list the reasons?" Isley asked. And there were a lot of things fueling Isley's ever-growing dislike of the other warrior, too: his macabre display with the corpse and the way he had chosen to deal with those bandits, which was almost comical, in a sick and twisted and psychotic way, like something out of a serial killer's joke book, but there were also small things, as well. Things like that smile he seemed to always be wearing, which for some reason put him in mind of the yoma that ate his family (which was now inside of him), and the fact that he seemed to exude an aura of narcissistic arrogance. Isley didn't realize it at the time, but he was hardly alone in the feeling that there was something that just wasn't right about Van. And, in fact, there was.

"He're the signpost," the messenger said, pointing at a singpost that pointed the way to "Sootaffoo." "Alright, we go this way now." And so they did, breaking only once for lunch (or rather, the messenger broke for lunch, while the warriors waited), and they reached the village an hour before sunset. There was a boy (who couldn't have been much more than seven) on a street corner with a bandage over his eyes playing a lute, and playing it fairly well. Otherwise, the town seemed deserted.

"Why is that boy doing that?" Isley asked.

"He's an orphan," the messenger said.

Isley looked at him incredulously. "And you didn't run him out of town?"

"He was orphaned before the yoma showed up. Mother died in childbirth, and his father died in a cave in in the coper mines a couple months ago," the messenger said.

"Sounds tragic," said Isley, and if it was a bit insincere, it was because he had seen his family torn to shreds by a monster before his very eyes. "And how did he lose his sight?"

"He didn't," the messenger said. "He just wears that so that people will pity him and give him money for his singing."

Van chuckled. "That's a way to do it," he said.

"Where is everybody?" Isley asked.

"Hiding from the yoma, no doubt," the messenger said.

"Oh, great, give it impunity to walk around in broad daylight, why don't ya?" Van asked sarcastically and disgustedly at the same time.

"He's right," Isley said. "You'd be better off in crowds--after all, yoma prefer solitary targets."

All three of them looked at the boy again. "You don't think..." said the messenger, purposefully letting the sentence trail off.

"No, I'm not sensing any yoma energy from him," Isley said. "Still, it's strange how he could survive in the presence of a Yoma--he is obviously a solitary target, and one no one will miss, to boot."

"Too much of a small fry?" suggested Van, skeptical even as he was saying it.

"Perhaps he has a good hiding place," the messenger suggested. "Someplace the Yoma can't reach."

"Yoma have the ability to shapeshift," Isley said. "There are few holes they can't get into." He thought again, "But then, the yoma would be looking in houses, not under them, so maybe he has a safe hidey-hole."

"No; as soon as the yoma spots him, it will track him to his hole," Van said. "Yoma know easy prey when they see it." This statement was accompanied by another very inappropriate smile.

"So then it must have never have seen him," the messenger said, "though I admit, it would be a bit much to be a coincidence after all of this time..."

"...so he must be actively avoiding the yoma..." continued Isley.

"...which means, he knows who the yoma is!" finished Van.

The three of them walked into town. "Hey, kid!" shouted Isley.

"Andre," shouted the messenger. Isley felt--something--and then the kid started running. Van suddenly appeared ahead of him and picked him up. The child squirmed violently. "Hey, kid, why are you running?" he grinned wickedly. "It's not like we're going to eat you." The child began to squirm even more violently, and started whimpering.

"Van, you goddamn freak," Isley said, taking the child from his grip. He set him on the ground, making sure he had a good grip on the boy's shoulder so that he couldn't run away, and removed the blindfold. "Hello...Andre, was it? My name is Isley."

The young boy was shaking almost as bad as Arthur did, but he was shaking out of fear, not ill health. "P-please don't eat me, mister yoma. I swear I won't tell anybody what you are," he pleaded. "Nobody likes me here, anyway." Van cracked a grin, but said nothing.

"I'm not a yoma," Isley said.

"Y-yes you are," the boy said, frightened but adamant.

Isley frowned in confusion. Yeah, what Van did to him was prickish and cruel, but surely, it couldn't account for the boy being so dead certain about their yoma status, and he shouldn't be world-wise know that silver isn't a natural human eye color--just one he hadn't ever seen before. As a matter of fact, he had been scared long before he saw them, but not as soon as he heard them. Isley remembered feeling something just before the boy fled, and then he remembered that he had been mistaken for a yoma before--by a yoma. By two yoma, in fact, if you counted the one Van had scared off just last night. This boy wasn't a yoma, clearly, as Isley would be able to sense it, but what if...what if, somehow, he could sense yoma power, from a limited distance? "What makes you think I'm a yoma?" Isley asked.

"I can f-f-feel it," Andre said.

Isley and Van looked at one another. "I know what you're thinking," Van said, "and it's stupid."

Isley accepted that, though crazy, Van was indeed intelligent, and therefore probably did know what he was thinking at the moment. "Do you have any better explanation?"

"Well, no, but--"

"Lets test him," Isley said. "Can you sense the yoma's presence?"

Van searched for a second. "Yeah. Direction, and distance," he said.

Isley searched for a moment. "Alright, me, too," he said. "Alright, Andre? We're not yoma--we're actually what you might call half-breeds, although there was no breeding involved. We're human, but we have yoma flesh inside of us that give us their powers--which is why you can 'feel' us, okay?" The boy nodded nervously. "Now, then, can you lead us to the real yoma? Can you show us where he lives?"

"If he could sense it from here, he'd have ran long before we arrived," Van pointed out.

"Actually, I was thinking that he'd know from experience," Isley said. "He does live here, you know--he's probably passed by it many times," he pointed out.

"Oh, yeah," Van said, humbled (for once).

The direction Andre first took them actually headed almost perpendicular to the direction of the yoma, and slightly away from it, but he was actually just going to the proper street. The warriors followed, and then he turned and headed right for the house. The two humans and two half-breeds stood across the street from the residence that did, indeed, have a yoma inside. "You guys better stay away," Isley said to the humans. "This could get ugly."

"Could?" Van asked.

For once, Isley actually smiled with him. "Lets do this thing." Then: "Wait." He walked up to the door and knocked.

A man answered it. "Hello?" Isley stuck his sword into his stomach, and sliced upward, nearly cutting him in two.

"What in the name of all that is good and holy are you doing???" the messenger demanded.

"Look," Isley said. It was then that the messenger noticed that the blood was turning purple, and that the man was turning into a beast.

"Well, that was anti-climatic," Van said. "Ah, well; time to get paid."

"But...how did you know?" the messenger asked.

"We always know," Isley said. "It's why you pay us all those beras, remember? Speaking of which..."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll assemble the town," the messenger said.

_**AN:**__ You know, I'm actually glad that the original version of the chapter got deleted when my computer crashed--this version is much better. For one thing, having Van accompany Isley on his first mission really allows us to explore his character, when previously he had just been a name (and this does explain some of the stuff he'll do later, provided I don't change things up too much). Also, as I have previously stated, the fact that my computer crashed is what spurned me to write the interlude, which I feel was a good move, because it's never a good idea to get too focused on the original characters, or too take characters too far out of character for too long (even though Isley and company are being taken out of character for a good reason--because they're young, and have human minds/moralities (granted, I'm trying to keep them relatively intact while leaving room for character development and growth, as well as have them be the "good guys" (the fact that I put that in quotes ought to be an ominous sign to you))). Another good thing about the interlude--it put me over the 250,000 word mark (a personal, pointless benchmark)! Yeah, this chapter would have done it, too, but the interlude, having a lower word count, did it nearly perfectly. Look:_

_Total words archived : 250,796 words._

_Isn't that awesome? I think so. The next benchmark is 300,000 words, which I doubt I'll be achieving any time soon, much less in this story (unless it runs on _a lot_ longer than expected). Well, this Author's Note is running long, and I'd best end it before it turns into an Author's Commentary (too late)._


	6. Things Change

The First Generation

S-Michael

Chapter 4:

Things Change

"I'd like to offer my most heartfelt and sincerest thanks to you warriors for your quick and efficient disposal of the yoma," the mayor said.

"Yeah, yeah; just give us the money," Van said, bored.

"Would you be gracious for once in your life?" Isley snapped at him. "I'm sorry, as you were saying, sir?"

"Um, right," said the mayor. "That you dispatched the yoma with no loss of life is something truly amazing--"

"'No loss of life'? Tell that to the yoma," Van said snidely. Isley glared daggers at him, and Van covered his mouth with his hands, signifying that he would shut up.

"That you dispatched the yoma with no loss of human life is something truly amazing, and, in my opinion, you are worth every last copper scrap," the mayor finished quickly, before Van could interrupt again, and handed Isley the bag.

Isley dumped its contents onto the table, and counted the beras. "Yup, this appears to be in order," he said.

"Oh, I don't know," Van said, taking a couple bars from the table, "looks like there are a couple missing.

Isley glared at him. "Put those back, you asshole. God of Rabona, what kind of gall do you have, to scam these people right in front of them? See, this is the reason nobody likes you."

Isley might have hit a nerve, but then, he might not have. Whichever the case may be, Van tossed the beras back. "Ouch. I see I miscounted. you are correct--it is all there." Isley could almost feel the crowd breath a sigh of relief.

The warriors of the Organization left the auditorium, and saw the child playing his lute outside, feigning blindness once again. "Hey, kid, you're coming with us," Isley said.

"I am?" the boy asked.

"Yeah. Children like you just end up being caught by slavers, anyway, who then sell you to slave traders, and then we'd have to buy you from them if we wanted to turn you into one of us, so I'm just going to cut out the middle men and declare you the property of the organization right now," Isley said.

"Hey, it beats working yourself to an early grave in a quarry, or doing the gods only knows what that frozen wastland known as Alphonse needs all of that slave labor to do in the godsforsaken north," Van added cheerfully. "Uh, no offense, Isley."

"None taken," Isley said dryly.

"Hey, have you ever wondered what it is, exactly that they do when they cut us open?" Van asked.

"Not particularly, no," Isley said.

"Huh. I do. I wonder if they'll let me watch when they cut him open?" Van asked.

"Why do you care?" asked Isley. "The goal is not to kill him."

"Do you really think I'm about slaughter?" Van asked, as if offended.

"Given your behavior the last twenty-four hours...yeah," said Isley.

"You wound me," Van cried overdramatically. "I am a thinking man, a philosopher, a tinkerer in who is never satisfied with leaving things be."

"Of course you are," Isley said patronizingly. "Lets go."

-

Isley and Van walked into Rubel's office. "Oh, good, you're back. Please tell me you didn't create a mess," Rubel pleaded.

"Um, sir?" asked Isley.

"It's just that we've been studying the public opinion of the people of the continent to, well, you guys," Rubel said. "It's not good. For every person who thinks you're noble slayers of yoma, another thinks you're slavers, murderers, and looters. Please tell me you didn't do anything to enhance the second stereotype."

"Well, actually..." Isley said.

"Spill it," ordered Rubel.

"I brought an orphan back to be part of the next batch of warriors," said Isley, "and Van mouthed off to the mayor while he was thanking us--"

"That's hardly surprising," Rubel said darkly.

"--and then he tried to cheat them, and also, he ripped someone's guts out and used them to strangle another guy."

"WHAT???"

"They were bandits, sir," Isley said.

"Oh. Well, I guess that that's not as bad," Rubel said, somewhat relieved but still pissed off. "Still, what the hell is your problem? Yeah, they're just bandits, but, as a creature that can get the best of yoma, couldn't you have found a way out of an encounter with a few measly bandits without resorting to wanton slaughter? And if you had to kill them, couldn't you have used your sword, instead of getting...creative with it?"

"Funny, Isley asked me pretty much the same thing. But what would be the fun in that?" Van smarted off.

Rubel looked as if he wanted to get up and smack the young man. "What in the hell is wrong with your head, boy?" He forced himself to calm down. "How did the actual hunt go?"

"In a word, smoothly," Isley said. "I literally just walked up to the yoma's door and knocked. It answered, and I killed it before it knew what was going on."

"Good," said Rubel. "At the very least, word will spread of how good we are at what we do." He seemed to lose interest, and started focusing on his paperwork when he said. "Isley, what you did was what you believed to be in the best interests of the Organization, and it is not against the rules yet. Know that as soon as the second batch has been gathered, we're going to end this policy of allowing our oporatives to obtain orphans for us. The new policy is that we'll buy them from slave traders. Yoma are the number one creators of orphans in this world, anyway, so it'll pan out, and we should have enough money to afford it, if projections keep up. Van, however, it seems you cannot be trusted. You'll be going on no more contracts, and will instead be responsible for gathering yoma for the next batch of warriors. I'll think of an actual punishment for your lack of self-control later. Both of you may go," Rubel said. Isley and Van both left, and parted company.

Isley found Emily practicing her swordsmanship in the training yard. "Where's Arthur?" he asked.

"On a mission," Emily said. "I don't know when he'll get back. You always were his favorite, you know."

"I brought an orphan back," Isley said.

"Like master, like apprentice," Emily chuckled.

"His name is Andre, and even though he doesn't have any yoma flesh in him, he is already able to sense yoma energy. Truly a prodigy," Isley bragged.

"Don't mistake a freak for a prodigy," Emily chided.

"Pardon?" Isley asked.

"There is no gain without loss, no loss without gain. When I lost my eyes, I gained the heightened use of my other senses, with work. Who knows what the boy lost because of his sixth sense. Hopefully, not something important," Emily said. She spun to face him, and hefted her claymore like an ax. "Speaking of gains and losses, perhaps you can help me with a conundrum."

"Oh?" Isley asked.

"Yes. When I duel you, my students, I am testing them. And based on what I feel when I fight you, Rigald should be the better warrior between you and he, and yet, he has yet to win a single match against you," Emily said. "It seems that you fight harder against him than you do against me. Can you come up with a theory for this?"

"Have you considered that I might actually be trying to kill him?" Isley asked.

Emily chuckled. "Cute. But your intentions towards one another aren't nearly as homicidal as you pretend."

"I never realized that I wasn't doing as well against you as against him," Isley said.

"I don't want excuses, I want answers," Emily said.

"Answers? I thought you wanted a theory," Isley said, smirking. "Actually, maybe I have a theory, come to think of it."

"Do you now?" asked Emily.

"Perhaps, deep down, I don't want to beat you," Isley said. "After all, who would I have to look up to, then?"

"Yeah? You've got nothing to worry about, though, as you're miles away from even dreaming of beating me," Emily said.

"Yeah, I guess that that's true," Isley admitted, "Although, there may be something that might motivate me to fight better than Rigald."

"I can almost see the twinkle in your eye," Emily knew that he was planning something. With a sudden burst of speed, he was right in front of her and pressed his lips to hers. The thing about trying that maneuver on someone with a warrior's instincts as well as preternatural speed and strength is that you're going to get burned. Emily saw him build up yoma power for that burst of speed, and so knew where he was going to be and when, but not what he was going to do when he got there. When he kissed her, the impulse to punch had already been sent, and could not be retracted. Isley hadn't defended himself--there hadn't of been time. He went flying, but landed on his feet. "What in the name of Teresa and Clare was that?" Emily asked.

Isley stood, healing the bruise. "I stole a kiss," he said, unsheathing his sword and grinning like a maniac. "I'll give it back, if you beat me."

Emily was expressionless for a second, and then grinned. "Okay, I'm game. But you have to make it worth my while. After all, it won't be any fun if it's too easy, and then I won't want the prize." And so they fought. At first, Isley held his own, but then Emily kicked it up a notch. He fought valiantly, but they both knew that it was a losing battle. Emily kicked it up another notch, and beat him into the ground. Isley collapsed, and then Emily picked him up by the back of his neck. Isley had yet to reach his full height at this point, being just a teenager, so he was shorter than she was. He had had to reach when he had kissed her, and now he was being held at eye level, which meant that his feet were scraping on the floor like he was standing on tip-toes, but they weren't baring any of his weight. "I think I won," Emily said.

"I would say that you have," Isley agreed. "Was it worth your while? Did I beat Rigald?"

Emily kissed him, forcing his lips apart and probing his mouth with her tongue. "You tell me, kiddo."

"Wow," said Isley of his first kiss (not counting that teaser he gave her). Wow, indeed.

-

"Hey, Isley, I hear you're screwing the teacher," Rigald said. "I knew there had to be a reason that you were getting better grades than me."

Isley knew that the accusation wasn't serious. Rigald was a bit vain, but he wasn't blinded by it. "You're just jealous that you didn't think of it first," Isley teased.

"Yeah, but I have a human girlfriend, who doesn't have scars, or disfiguring marks on her stomach," Rigald said.

"My girlfriend could kick your girlfriend's ass," Isley said.

Rigald laughed. "Damn, you've got me there.

"What the hell did you guys do?" Venus demanded, storming up to them.

"Huh?" Isley asked.

"What are you talking about?" Rigald said.

"Not you, Rigald," Venus said. "Isley, what the hell did you and Van do?"

"Hey, don't blame that psycho's actions on me. And why do you care?" Isley said.

Venus sighed, looking at the ground. "There's talk in the leadership of the Organization of changing the rules. Making it illegal for us to kill human beings, for any reason, no matter what it may be. Rumor has it that it has been suggested that breaking the new rule should be punishable by death. Luckily, that extreme hasn't seemed to be embraced by those who rule us, but that's not the point! The point is, this is taking the Organization in the exact wrong direction!" Her fists were trembling as she declared this.

"I didn't know that being able to kill humans meant so much to you," Rigald observed.

"Damn it, don't say it like that!" Venus scolded him. "What I mean is, if this rule is enacted, it will take us in the direction of less interaction with the world of humans, when what we need is more. Our primary function is to kill yoma when they harm humans, yes, but why stop there? Why not take care of all of the problems that plague humanity? Why not hunt down bandits and yoma? Why not use our power to take these scattered groups of humanity and turn them into something more...something legendary?"

"You're talking of empire-building," Rigald said, unsure whether to be amused, skeptical, incredulous, or shocked.

"Are you seriously?" Isley asked. When she didn't deny it, he added, "But it has been tried, many times, usually by rulers in the big cities like Rabona. Not one attempt has ever succeeded."

"No one has ever had our powers before," Venus countered. "The yoma were always responsible for the failures of people to form empires, either directly or indirectly. They're very presence is destabilizing--after all, another city's promises of protection sound pretty cheap when yoma feed on your friends and family, all but with impunity. Why would you pay tithes to something that can't even protect you from this world's greatest threat, the enemy of mankind?

"We _can_ protect people from the yoma, however. And really, why shouldn't we? Why should there be forty seven of us, the estimated number that we would need to divide this continent into manageable 'regions', when there could be hundreds--or thousands? We could protect everyone from yoma and bandits, and we can unify all of the peoples of the continent in everlasting peace and mutual purpose."

"You know, everything you say is technically correct, but..." Isley shrugged, "I don't know. It just feels wrong. I can't really put my finger on it, exactly."

"Humans should be ruled by humans," Rigald said, which shocked Isley, for he hadn't of realized that Rigald was that philosophical, for one thing, and for another, that _was_ what he had been thinking.

"'Humans should be ruled by humans'??? Is that the best you can do?" Venus demanded angrily. "Damn it, what does it matter? As long as people are fed and happy and safe, what does it matter how they are ruled, if by us or by a king or even some sort of democratically-elected super-mayor? Gods," she muttered, and stormed off.

"She sure likes the sound of her own voice," Rigald said.

"'The enemies of humanity,' how melodramatic," Isley agreed.

"Yeah. I wonder how Alexander can stand her?" Rigald said.

"Well, she _is_ good-looking, strong, and smart, if a little bit obsessive and preachy," Isley pointed out.

"She's not that strong," Rigald said.

"Stronger than he is," Isley said.

Rigald nodded. "That's true. Hey, Isley, I want to fight."

"What, again? When are you going to give this up? I'm just better than you," Isley said.

"I'm not going to give up until I am the number one fighter in the Organization," Rigald said.

"There are no official rankings," Isley pointed out.

"Yet," Rigald said.

"I'm getting tired of fighting you. Lets make this interesting," Isley said. "The loser will be the winner's slave for a week."

"Yeah, I'm game," Rigald said.

"I'm going to make it a point to make you regret it, you know," Isley said. "Just a fair warning."

"You're not going to have the opportunity to make anyone regret anything," Rigald scoffed.

"Oh, we'll see," Isley said, unsheathing his sword.

-

"Attention, all gathered warriors," Rigald said in a drill sergeant-esque tone of voice. Of course, these days, people were coming in search of the Organization's protection all of the time, and only half of the warriors were "in house" at any given time, not including the latest batch of trainees. "There have been many promises that I've made, more to myself than to you, of things that would be done differently once we had money. Now that business has been picking up--as evidenced by how empty this room is" (he said this with a slight smirk) "--it is time that I came through on a few of those promises. With our new-found wealth, we managed to lure not one but _three_ of the best weapon- and armor smiths in all the land to Sutafu for our private use. Which means that it is time that you had your own proper swords, and what's more, uniforms. You have looked like a scraggly bunch of bandits for just too long." He motioned behind them. "On the wall behind you, I'm sure you've all noticed, are a row of boxes. Inside the box with your sigil on it is your uniform and claymore."

Isley took his new sword out of the box and out of its sheath, getting the feel of it. He felt that it had a good weight to it, heavier than his last sword. Then he put it back so that he could look at the rest of it. The uniform consisted of a long-sleeved but apparently tight-fitting metal-grey shirt and matching pants as well as a short cape, but also a seemingly random collection of peices of armor: sabatons (shin-high metal boots with slightly high heels), vembraces (large wrist guards), spaulders (large shoulder peices), and a fauld (a partial skirt). He saw other warriors putting on their uniforms right there, and noticed that the shirts left the fabric with their sigil on it exposed enough for the sigil to be seen. Truth be told, he hadn't even known what some of their sigils _were_.

"Excuse me, sir, but what's with the armor?" Isley asked. "It's not like we need it, and even if we did...well, this armor is missing all of its most important parts."

"Its to honor the dead," Rubel said. "The first three of your kind would have been _much_ better off with armor, believe you me, but all we could scrounge up at the time were rusty old vembraces, sabatons, spaulders, and a couple faulds. There hadn't even been enough of this to go around. There was one chest peice, but it was completely rusted out, and besides, it didn't have the back peice to go with it, and half of a cuirass isn't a very useful thing. If it wasn't for their sacrifice, none of you would exist. Also, if more of the current trainees survive than the last batch, then we will have a tournament sometime next month to determine rank."

Isley dressed in his new uniform and strapped his new sword to his back, and then followed Rubel out of the room. "Why are you following me?" Rubel asked.

"You're going to give these kids their challenge now, aren't you? I want to see how Andre does first-hand," Isley said. They hadn't of talked much over the years, Andre being busy with training, and Isley with missions, but Isley still took some pride in the boy's accomplishments, having discovered him. The second batch was gathered, but one was missing. Andre. Isley looked over the absurdly youthful faces once again (twelve, thirteen, fourteen years old--Isley had been sixteen when he had done this), but he wasn't there.

"One of you is missing," Rubel said flatly. "I want an explanation."

"It's Andre, he--"

Andre came limping out of the woods, panting. "Sorry I'm late," Andre said. "There was a yoma in there."

"And you killed it?" Rubel asked, irked.

"Well, yeah," Andre said. "Aren't we supposed to kill yoma?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, that yoma was transported in here for the express purpose of you guys hunting it down _as a team_, and seeing who survives and who dies," Rubel said.

"Oh. Oops," Andre said.

"We're going to have to postpone this until we get a new yoma, then. Andre, you're exempt, I guess," Rubel said.

"That boy is going to be a powerful warrior," Isley said proudly. He couldn't have been more wrong. Later on, in spite of not being a superstitious man, Isley would often wonder if he had somehow jinxed it by saying so.

-

_Knock, knock, knock._ Oh, gods, what time was it? Wariors of the Organization didn't have to sleep much, it was true, but they liked to. Especially if they were sleeping _with_ someone at the time. Emily got up and answered the door. "Yes, what is it?" she asked.

It was Alexander. "It's Rubel. He wants you, me, Isley, Rigald, and Duff to all report to his office immediately. I can't find Isley, though--"

"I'm right here, Alex," Isley said.

"Oh. Well, that's one mystery solved. I should have figured as much," Alexander said. "Anyway, if you can get dressed and report to Rubel's office, I'll gather Rigald and Duff," and then he left. Isley and Emily dressed in their uniforms, which still showed the fold marks, having only been in use for about a week (Isley still thought that the random bits of armor added to it looked ridiculous, honoring the dead or no) and strapped on their swords.

"Hey, I just realized something," Isley said.

"What?" Emily asked.

He looked her up and down. "You look damn sexy in that uniform. It's absolutely painted to your skin," Isley said.

Emily grinned wickedly, "Hey, whatever gets customers to come to us with their yoma problems. And makes it easier for me to woo some hot guys." As Arthur had predicted years before, Emily did in fact sleep around, and unashamedly so. In spite of having no desire to sleep around himself, Isley didn't mind. Most guys would have minded, or at least would have minded knowing. Even of those who didn't mind, they usually wouldn't have wanted to know any more than that, while Isley listened to Emily's tales of her sexual conquests with interest, sometimes even probing for details. He was aware that he was weird. He did not care.

Dressed, they went down to Rubel's office. The others came shortly. Rubel looked at them. There was a map of the region on the table. He pointed out a town. "This is Aerinth. It doesn't exist any more. travellers traveling through it reported that several of the buildings have been damaged, and that the streets were littered with corpses torn to shreds--human, animal, and even a couple of yoma." Ironically, it was the last mention that worried the warriors the most--after all, what could kill yoma? Asside from warriors of the Organization, that is. "We are dealing with a total unknown here. And what's more, the real reason I'm sending all of you after it, is that whatever did this may have already killed one of us," Rubel said. He paused, sighed, and said: "I sent Arthur on a mission to Aerinth a couple of weeks ago. He has not returned."


	7. Painted Black

The First Generation

S-Michael

Chapter 5:

Painted Black

Isley was shocked. "You think that...whatever did this...killed Arthur?"

"I'm not ruling anything out at this point," Rubel said. "I'm hoping for the best, but fearing the worst. Like I said, you're going up against an unknown opponent. This is why I'm sending the four best fighters and the guy with preternatural healing." Alexander had the unique ability to recover from would-be fatal wounds, end even regrow limbs. Why he had this power was unknown, but no one else amongst his peers had it (although, one of his batch-mates showed signs of a similar ability), and only three of the trainees, including Andre. "You are to follow this map to Aerinth, and investigate this strange phenomenon. Find out what happened to Isley, and if he's alive, bring him back. If he's not...give him a proper burial. Remember that a warrior's sword doubles as his headstone." The warriors nodded. "And...one more thing...Emily?"

"Yes, sir?" asked Emily.

"You and Arthur are the closest friends I have amongst the warriors," Rubel said, uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Don't get killed, and bring him back alive. Please."

Emily smiled, but it wasn't a joyous thing. "See, that's what you get for making friends amongst the rank-and-file. Warriors die, it's a fact. You've got to start thinking of us as expendable. We'll get on that job, now, sir." She left, and the other warriors followed.

"One of these days, you're going to have to tell me what the hell that was about," Isley said.

"Maybe one of these days I'll tell you," Emily said. "Is everyone well-rested?" Everyone nodded. "Good," she said, sensing that they had nodded. "I'm thinking that if we run for six days straight, we can rest up and eat before entering the territory of the destruction on the seventh."

-

Six days later, they settled down tor rest. "Alright, four hours of sleep ought to be more than enough for you people. Isley and I will take the first shift, and then Rigald, Duff, and Alexander will take the second shift. We'll approach at dawn."

"You sure you two won't bee too distracted?" Rigald teased.

"We'll save all that distracting stuff for when we're off-duty," Emily assured him, punching his arm.

"That ought to make an entertaining show, " Rigald said, going to sleep with his back against his blade, getting in the final word.

Everyone was asleep. Isley stoked the fire for a while. "Is this shift thing really necessary? I mean, we're not humans."

"We have no idea what it is that we're going up against. Better safe than sorry. Also...I sense...something...coming. It's still too distant for me to tell what it is, but it's yoma energy is enormous," Emily said. She grinned, "Besides, I wanted to get you to myself."

Isley grinned back. "Now, now. We promised the others that we wouldn't do anything distracting, you naughty girl."

"Yeah, well, I lied. There is nothing even remotely close enough to our location to cause us trouble, human, yoma, or wild animal, so I'm going to have my wicked way with you. Don't make me use force...unless you're into hat sort of thing," Emily said.

"I don't know...it sounds kinky," Isley said.

"Alright, then," Emily said, and then she did exactly as she had said that she was going to do. After they had done it and cleaned up afterwards, Emily said, "Uh-oh."

"What?" Isley asked.

"The thing I sensed earlier...it's coming faster than I thought," Emily said. "It's still miles away," she assured him, "but still, it's...disconcerting. This has got to be one of the fastest as well as one of the most powerful yomas ever."

"Great. Double threat," Isley said. "Still, we are five warriors of the Organization. Surely one yoma can't stand against us, right?"

"Surely," Emily agreed doubtfully. "Lets eat something before we go to bed," she changed the subject. If they were human, the food supplies they'd brought would have lasted them all of two days, but they weren't human. This meager fare could last the warriors of the Organization for months. Emily pulled out a "stick" of beef that had been dehydrated and seasoned to preserve it from becoming bad, and forced into an unnatural shape, presumably to make it easier to pack. Isley tore into the tough beef jerky, and all but physically winced from the taste of too many preservatives. Still, he ate more than a warrior of the Organization usually ate, for he hadn't eaten in days. Each stick of jerky was a foot long, two and a half inches wide, and three sixteenths of an inch thick, roughly; Isley ate damn near half of a stick. "Lets leave the food out. It'll drop a hint for the others."

Isley grinned. "You're just lazy," he accused.

Rigald, Duff, and Alexander got up exactly as their shift started, removing their swords from the dirt and sheathing them. Emily dug hers into the dirt and rested against it. Isley chose instead to rest against her. "Well, that's awfully cute of you," she muttered.

"What, you're not going to entertain us?" Rigald asked.

"You don't need any distractions," Isley grinned, and shut his eyes to rest. When the first rays of dawn hit him, he awoke, but it seemed an instant since he had gone to sleep. He and Emily stood, and Emily sheathed her sword.

"Alright, did you guys eat?" Emily asked.

"Yeah," Alexander said.

"Alright, then. Lets go. But be on your guards, people; I sense something huge coming, and it could be on us at any time," she ordered, and then the five warriors headed out. They came to what had once been the town f Aerinth, and gawked at the sight, but also at the smell. It was exactly as they had been told, and more. There wasn't a building in town that hadn't of had a hole in it, usually a large hole, many of the buildings rend in half or completely demolished, and there were bodies, or at least pieces of bodies, everywhere. In the streets, skewered on signposts, in the roofs when there were roofs. And what's more, these bodies had been here for weeks--they were thoroughly decomposing. "Gods. I'm glad I can't see this," Emily said. "Remind me to watch my step."

Suddenly they all froze, for they could feel an immense amount of yoma power suddenly burst onto the scene. It was immense, like nothing they had ever felt before, and yet...somehow familiar. "It's here," Emily said. They turned to the direction it was coming from, and out of the woods stepped...a man. He was a tall, strong-looking man, on the handsome side of average in looks but just barely with jet black hair and brown eyes. They had never seen him before in their lives, and yet, he looked familiar.

He smiled. "Hello, friends," he said. "You've finally got uniforms, I see. They look spiffy." His voice sounded familiar, as well.

"Who are you?" Emily asked.

The man grinned wider. "What, you don't recognize me? I guess it would be hard. After all, my voice is no longer raspy. My flesh is no longer withered. I no longer tremble when I walk, or even stand still, I am no longer in constant pain. I am more powerful than ever before. I also no longer have blonde hair or silver eyes, but you can't see that. Still, I wouldn't think that all that would fool you, Emily. What I think has you fooled is my newfound confidence. The spring in my step, more than the fact that my step doesn't tremble."

"A-Arthur?" Isley asked.

"That's right," the man said, grinning again. "It is I, Arthur, my young friend. And, for the first time in more years than you have been alive, I feel absolutely marvelous!" He spun three hundred and sixty degrees on his heel in some sort of bizarre dance maneuver and pelvic thrusted. "Yeah!"

"How did this happen? Where have you been? What happened here? We've been worried," demanded Isley.

"Huh? Sorry I haven't been back, I've just been feeling so marvelous, and wanted to try my new body out," Arthur said. "It's so wonderful! The one downside is that I'm always hungry, but after years of having to force down even the teeniest scrap or morsel, even _that_ feels absolutely wonderful. Everything is wonderful and new, and I feel like I've been reborn.

"As for what happened, well...it seemed like a normal hunt at the time. I was ordered here to find and kill the yoma for these people," Arthur gestured at the corpse-strewn roads. "I found a yoma, and attacked, but then four more came charging out of the crowd. A whole fucking family of them were living here, can you believe that? The nerve of some creatures. I thought I was screwed, but was determined to go down fighting, and so I powered up. To maximum." He smiled again, this time wistfully. "And in doing so, I unleashed more power than I knew that I had, and completely transformed my body. It was...it was an awakening, really. That's the only way I can describe it.

"Emily, you could get your sight back," Arthur said. "Don't you want that? Don't you want more power? After all if _this_ could happen to _me_, imagine what could happen to _you!_ Each and every one of you is stronger than I was. These reserves of power are completely untapped. Imagine the possibilities."

"That is intriguing and tempting," Rigald said, "but, you haven't really answered...what happened here?"

"Hmm. I guess I got a little carried away," Arthur said disinterestedly.

"You did this?" Isley demanded.

"Yeah. Impressive, no?" Arthur grinned.

"The Arthur I know would never be so callous," Emily said. "The yoma inside of you has taken over."

"And if it has, would that really be so bad?" Arthur asked. "Why should we be the pawns of humans, when we are ever so much more powerful than they are? Why should we fight and die for their sakes? Why shouldn't we be free? Come and be free with me, my friends. We can even go back to Sutafu, and see if we can't convince our comrades to awaken to this brand new world, as well." The warriors of the Organization all drew their swords, almost in unison. "Oh, so is that how it's going to be?" Arthur asked. "Well, I can't say that I'm not disappointed--especially in you, Isley. I thought you wanted power." He drew his claymore, which didn't have a sigil on it because he hadn't been back to Sutafu recently.

"Not as an end in itself," Isley said. The warriors attacked their former comrade and former friend, but Arthur moved swiftly and skillfully, avoiding their weapons.

"Tell me, Emily, why did we never date?" Arthur asked conversationally as he blocked several attacks almost-lazily.

"You're a good friend, but I was just never sexually attracted to you," Emily said.

"And are you now?" Arthur asked.

"You're evil now," Emily said.

Arthur sighed dramatically (and loudly enough for it to be heard over the clinging of blades), "It's always one thing or another with you, isn't it, Emily? Well, no matter. The truth is, I wouldn't have been able to stand all the sleeping around you do. I try to be laid back, and happy-go-lucky, but the truth is, I wouldn't have been able to share you." Suddenly there was a hole in Emily's body. As Isley had once seen Van do with a bandit, Arthur had ripped her guts out. "Now I don't have to share you with anybody." He took a bite out of her guts, and spat it out. "Note to self: the guts of our people tastes horrible." Doing some slight-of-hand, he was now holding Emily's still-beating heart. "Sorry, Isley, but I stole her heart." Arthur laughed at his own bad joke.

Isley and the others powered up and charged him. "Oh, you're getting up there. Of course, you'd better be careful--you might awaken on accident, the way you're going." They actually had him on the defensive for a while. And then: "Impressive, but you're forgetting something; I'm holding back, too." And then he unleashed his yoma power, and he transformed into a giant green six-armed monster. Arthur struck out with his fingers, and skewered Alexander. He struck out at Isley. Isley blocked with his sword, but Arthur had five more hands, and skewered him, as well. Duff and Rigald fought valiantly, but they were down as well.

"I'm going to let you four live, but there is something you must do. Go back to the Organization, and tell them of how easily I beat their greatest warriors. Tell them also that I am willing to leave them in peace--hell, I won't even attack any human villages--but anyone they send after me will die," Arthur said. Alexander stood to attack again, but Arthur skewered him. "Oh, right, you're the freak who can heal. I had forgotten." Arthur moved the hand that was skewering his abdomen like an egg beater, back and forth. "That ought to keep you down for a while." And then the monster who had been Arthur left. Isley would never see him again.

Isley pulled himself over th Emily's body, still healing from his injuries, and checked her for a pulse, but he knew already that she was dead. There was not even the hint of a pulse. _Do not cry,_ he told himself when the grief washed over him. _She wouldn't want you to cry._ And that was true, too. If Emily could somehow come back in spirit form and see Isley crying over her corpse, she'd probably kick his ass for being such a wuss. _Screw you; I'm going to cry. You were just too important to me for me to do otherwise._ And so Isley cried, for the first time since his family died, and for the last time that anyone is aware.

The survivors healed their injuries, and buried their dead mentor. They marked her grave with her sword, as Rubel had claimed was their custom. "Guys?" Alexander said.

"Yeah?" said Rigald.

"If I ever turn into one of...one of those things, I want you to hunt me down and kill me. No, screw that; if I'm ever on the _verge_ of turning into one of those things, I want you to kill me. I don't want to become a monster. Ever."

"Of course I will!" said Duff. "You can count on me."

Isley and Rigald looked at each other, silent for a moment. Rigald nodded. "Yeah," said Isley. "We're in, too." Isley sliced his hands on Emily's gravestone. "Let us swear a blood oath," he said. "That if ever one of us should, uh, 'awaken,' the others will hunt him down and kill him." Each of the others sliced themselves on Emily's claymore, and they all clasped hands. "So shall it be. Now come. Let us get out of this godforsaken place."

-

Venus bit her lip as the spasm ran through her body. "You're doing very well," the woman assured her. "You're very strong."

"Of course I'm very strong, you idiot! I kill yoma for a living," Venus said, and then stiffled a cry. "Goddamnit, get this thing out of me."

"Now, now, just push," the woman continued. Rubel walked up to see better, but the woman ignored him. For some reason, she had been giving him the cold shoulder this entire time. Something about a birthing not being a proper place for a man. "And here it comes...Congratulations! you are now the mother of a beautiful baby girl."

Rubel snatched the baby from the woman's hands, and studied its face. "I was afraid of this," he said.

"What?" Venus and the woman said almost in unison.

"I need to speak to Venus in private," Rubel said.

The woman looked at Venus. "Go!" Venus ordered. "What is it, sir? What's wrong with my baby?" Rubel brought the infant to her mother, and showed her her face. Like her parents, she had silver eyes. "I still don't understand what the problem is."

"Your child and others like her are a potential threat to humanity much greater than the yoma," Rubel said. "Think about it. Yoma are 'better' than us in almost every way imaginable. They're stronger, faster, more generally more powerful, some have even said that they're smarter than us. So why is it that we build cities, when they don't? Society is why. We have it, and they don't. The reason we have a functioning society is because we have consciences, morals, and the genuine desire to help one another, especially when in pursuit of the greater good. We are even capable of sacrificing ourselves for the good of our communities. Yoma are not, and that's why they live in caves. But what if there came along something new? Something that has all of the powers of a yoma, much less all of the powers of a yoma only stronger, and the human ability to come together for a cause, to protect one another, and to avenge one another? They would surely dominate the world, and push the two other species off the map. If half-breeds such as yourself can produce more half-breeds naturally, then what is there to stop them from taking over, especially a couple of generations down the line, when they don't feel so beholden to the Organization anymore?"

"What are you saying?" Venus asked.

"We have to kill your baby, Venus," Rubel said.

Venus was shocked, and didn't say anything for a good minute and a half. Rubel watched her, as the emotions wrestled across her face. And then she nodded. "Yes. For the sake of humanity."

Rubel squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "You truly are a courageous woman."

-

Isley, Rigald, Duff, and Alexander entered Sutafu. Rubel was waiting for them. "I have bad news, Alexander. Your child was stillborn." _He's lying,_ thought Isley. But why would he lie about something like that. Isley looked at Rigald to see if he had picked up on it, and saw that Rigald was more disturbed than he would have expected. Yeah, the lost of a child was bad news, but Alexander and Venus weren't even good friends of his, as far as Isley knew.

"What?" Alexander asked, his knees trembling.

"I'm sorry to tell you that. You should go see to Venus," Rubel said sympathetically. "The rest of you, tell me what happened." Alexander left, and Isley, Rigald, and Duff reported on what had happened. "So Arthur has turned into a yoma, and Emily is dead," Rubel summarized briefly.

"What are we going to do?" Duff asked.

Rubel sighed, and thought. "Emily's dead, and Arthur is worse than dead. We will have a eulogy tonight. As for whether or not to go after Arthur, I'll have to talk with the others, but I don't see the point. He's just a wild beast now, and sending people after him would be suicide, anyway."

"How did he get so powerful?" Rigald asked. "To take down Emily and Isley and myself so easily...He never seemed that strong. What if someone with real power 'awakens'?"

Rubel shrugged. "Arthur had a horrible disability when he was one of us. He struggled for many years to be a worthwhile warrior. No doubt a good deal of his new strength comes from the fact that he is now free of that. Perhaps even all of it. Perhaps other people wouldn't gain any sort of power advantage when they turn into yoma. I don't intend to find out, however."

-

Rubel spoke: "We gather here today to mourn the loss of two warriors, both outstanding in their own way: Emily and Arthur. Emily was always a fighter. They were locals of Sutafu, only children when the Organization first formed and arrived here. They witnessed what happened to the first ones, and still, even with that hellish possibility still very real at the time, they would later agree to become half-breeds in order to protect humans from yoma. Of the first four warriors after the original three, were as sick as Arthur, one was blind, and one was blind and sick. Still, Arthur courageously agreed to become a test subject, and he paid for it dearly. Every day was pain for him. Every small task a torture. The condition in which he has lived his life for the last several years, ever since he was seventeen, would have broken lesser men. How he could stand to be so frail and sick, I do not know, but in spite of it all, he always tried to be up beat. He was a wit, a friend, and an inspiration to his fellow half-breeds.

"Emily followed in his footsteps a few years later, when her aund, uncle, and cousins in another town were slaughtered by a yoma. At sixteen, full of fire and rage, she braved the procedure, and lost her sight in the process. In spite of the disability, she honed her other senses until they more than made up for her loss of sight, and trained in her swordsmanship until she became the legendary swordswoman we all knew and loved. They were amongst the first, when the opperation was decidedly more hit-and-miss, and if it wasn't for brave souls like them, you wouldn't be able to enjoy the good health that you do. Tonight, I want you to pray to whatever gods you worship for them. I certainly will be." _Never again,_ thought Rubel. _Never again will I allow myself to get so close to the warriors. It is as Emily said--they are expendable._


	8. Interlude 2: A Million Miles to Paradise

The First Generation

S-Michael

Interlude 2:

A Million Miles to Paradise

"How do you know what he was thinking?" Raki inturrupted.

"Huh?" Isley asked.

"How do you know what Rubel was thinking?" Raki asked again. "Come to think of it, how do you know what _any_ of them were thinking? Especially Isley."

Isley grinned. "Reliable sources," he said.

"Fine then, keep your secrets," Raki said. "Sorry about interrupting the story."

"Actually, it's getting late, and my throat is getting sore from talking," Isley said, clearing his throat. "Toss me the canteen. I think that it's time to end for the night."

Raki tossed him the canteen. "Hey, Isley? Whatever happened to Arthur?"

"He settled down in the mountains somewhere south and west of here," Isley said. Then he grinned, "Everything is south of here. Anyway, the Organization has been sending unruly Claymores after him for years."

"Why not send an army, if they want him so bad?" Raki asked.

Isley laughed. "So naive. Killing Arthur was never their intention. They were trying to get rid of people who were...inconvenient," he said. "Rumor has it that he was finally killed, by a group of Claymores lead by this generation's number six."

"Miria," Raki said. He thought he knew when this was, too, remembering a time when Clare and three other Claymores hunted an Awakened Being. But that would mean that Clare was an undesirable...Raki wished that he could go back to the Claymore graveyard they had discovered and check the "tombstones" again, this time looking for the marks of Miria, Helen, and Deneve. He probably wouldn't be able to remember what they looked like, as it was several months ago, and he hadn't of been paying attention, but still.

"Yeah, I think that was her name," Isley said.

"But...if the top four Claymores of the time, including one who was stronger than Isley, a number one who became an Abyssal One, couldn't beat him, how could a number six and a group that was spread out across the spectrum below her?"

"Claymores simply weren't as strong back then," Isley said. "The Organzation has since then refined their allegedly perfect method of making Claymores. Not by that much, I don't think, but maybe. Or maybe one of them was stronger than she pretends. Or who knows? Maybe they just got lucky. Probability is the main slayer of the immortal."

"I was under the impression that Isley was one of the strongest Awakened Beings out there," Raki said.

"Yeah? And how many Awakened Beings have you heard of?" Isley asked rhetorically.

"Good point," Raki conceded.

"You're right, though. He is one of the strongest. As a Claymore, he wasn't exactly Theresa of the Faint Smile, but a number one is a number one, after all. Some say that he's the strongest of the Abyssal Ones, but I don't think so," Isley said. "After all, he did end up with the godforsaken north as his territory," he grinned as he said this.

"Wasn't he from up here?" Raki asked.

"Exactly my point," Isley said. "Still, and I may be wrong, or if he and I are the same person, I could be pulling your leg, but I think that Isley is probably the weakest of the Abyssal Ones." He shrugged. "Of course, they have never battled amongst themselves, so there is no way to tell for sure, but I base my opinion on the fact that the Organization has improved its technique since Isley's days."

Raki paused before speaking."Is it true that Claymores can live forever? I had heard that once they reach a certain age, they stop aging, and they stay that way until they die or Awaken," he said.

"Yes, it's true," Isley said. "Why do you ask."

"Well, I was just thinking...since that line about male Claymores being more prone to Awakening is a lie...its just that, I'm going to grow up, and after that, I'm going to grow old, and Clare is always going to remain the same," Raki said.

"Unless the Organization sends her to her death to keep her from learning too much," Isley pointed out.

"Gee, thanks for reminding me," Raki said dryly. "Look, it's not the growing old part that scares me, it's the growing old on her..."

"You say that as if by growing old you'll be betraying her in some way," Isley said, bemused.

"I guess that it's stupid and childish, but that is kind of the way I feel," Raki admitted. "I mean, who would want to be with some old fart who may be going senile when they're still young and beautiful?"

"Love conquers all," Isley said. "Well, except for when it doesn't. Do you think she'll leave you if you get old?"

Raki shook his head. "I don't want her to have to deal with it, though, you know? It would be one thing if we were growing old together, but...I don't want to be a burden to her," he said.

"Like you said earlier," Isley said, for it was the same reasoning behind his sword practice.

"Yeah," Raki said. "Hypothetically speaking, lets say that you and Isley the Awakened Being are one and the same."

"Hypothetically speaking," Isley agreed, bemused.

"Can you turn me into a Claymore?" Raki asked, staring Isley down.

Isley shrugged. "Maybe. I never actually watched or participated in the process while it was happening to anybody else, and I was anesthetized when it was happening to me. Having neither an extreme need for Claymores in my ranks nor _complete_ crass disregard for the value of human life and a vindictive grudge against humanity, I have never actually experimented on anyone. I do have a general idea of what happens, though, but I'd probably end up turning you into something like Arthur had been. Or worse.

"Lets say, though, hypothetically speaking," Isley paused. "Hypothetically speaking hypothetically speaking," he said, bemused. "Anyway, as I was saying, lets say that I could do it and was willing to do it to you."

"Okay," Raki followed.

"Do you really want to be a Claymore? Objectively, being human is not inherently better than being anything else, but you are a human, so humanity should have some intrinsic value to you. It should be something you cherish. If you were to become a Claymore, you'd lose a piece of your humanity. If you Awaken, you'll lose all of it. And your destiny, either way, is irrevocably changed forever," Isley said. "Take as long as you want to answer. Hell, you don't even have to answer at all. But think about it." He paused. "Its getting late. You should go to sleep. I'll take first watch again."

"Alright," Raki said, preparing a spot next to the fire. He didn't even complain when Priscilla slipped into bed with him this time.

"She's got you trained good," Isley teased. Raki gave him a dirty look, which only made Isley grin more, and then settled in to sleep. After he was sure that Raki was asleep, he said, "So, you plan on feigning sleep all night?"

"Maybe," said Priscilla. "I love cuddling with him."

"Hey, now, you're making me jealous," Isley teased. "Anyway, I was thinking that we should move this camp site down the road a bit. Gain some time that way."

"Okay," Priscilla said, transforming. She stood, holding Raki against her. "I've got what I need. You get the rest." Isley laughed, and gathered up the camp site, bundling it up and affixing everything into its proper place on the horses. Then he transformed, and picked up the horses. The horses were used to this kind of thing by now, and so they didn't fret. "First one to a clearing down the way that looks exactly like this wins," Priscilla said. "Ready...set..." She bolted without warning.

"Hey! You didn't say, 'go!' cheater!" Isley shouted playfully, giving chase. Isley ran and Priscilla flew at top speed for several hours, and then Priscilla suddenly stopped. Isley stopped, too.

"I win," Priscilla said.

Isley looked around. "Well, I guess that this is the best that we're going to do, and we did make good distance," he said. "I guess you did. Lets set up here." And so they transformed into their human forms and set up the camp site to look exactly how it had looked before, even building a fire. "I think I saw some deer. Lets nab some."

Priscilla tucked Raki in, kissed his forehead, and then they went hunting. Isley and Priscilla made their way stealthily through the forest, until they came upon an eight-point buck and two does. Isley turned his hand into a bow, and shot all three of them before they knew anything was happening. Transforming his arm back, Isley and Priscilla approached the dead animals and started to dig in.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," a voice said. Out of the shadows came a man with platinum-blond hair and silver eyes.

"Van. You still alive?" Isley asked indifferently.

"They always said I was more yoma than human--and ironically, here I am, the oldest unawakened Claymore in the world, and by far," Van said.

"Oh, I wouldn't say 'by far,'" Isley said.

"Oh?" Van asked.

"I've heard tell of a nameless blind bard who knows more about the Organization and Claymores than is healthy for him," Isley said.

"You don't think it's Andre, do you?" Van asked, squatting down next to Priscilla and grabbing some intestines.

"You've got some guts, human," Priscilla said. "Perhaps I shall eat them."

"My guts would taste horrible, and you know it," Van said, taking a bite out of Priscilla's meal.

"Van? This woman is twice as powerful as I am, and not half as laissez-faire," Isley said. "I would not mess with her, if I were you."

Van laughed. "That always was your type."

Isley ignored him. "Anyway, to answer your question, when you and I first found him, Andre was playing the lute, the traditional instrument of the bard, and pretending to be blind so that people would take pity on him--there's no reason he couldn't be doing something simmilar now to cover silver eyes."

"Can I kill him?" Priscilla asked.

"Not yet, dearest. I want to get his opinion on something," Isley said.

"Oh, really? Something the ruler of the northern lands wants the advice of humble little me on?" Van asked.

"You have seriously got some balls," Priscilla said, more amazed than pissed at this point.

"You are the most defective human being I have ever met," Isley said, "but you're still human, and so you might be able to shine some light on something for me, for I have lost the ability to think like a human."

"Which explains why you didn't kill me when I walked out of the darkness. You were pretty pissed, when we parted ways," Van recalled.

"Now, it could be a coincidence--the blind bard could just be a bard who knows a lot of dirty secrets and happens to be blind--but lets say that it _is_ Andre for a moment," Isley said.

"Okay," Van said.

"It seems dangerous, for him to be exposing himself like that. Why would he?" Isley asked.

Van thought about it. "Perhaps he's recruiting," he said. "Looking for other exile Claymores. How many people did you save from the Purge? No, wait, it doesn't matter; even if you saved a good number, he could be looking for ex-Claymores out of a genuine desire to help them, bring them into a community of their peers."

"Yes, that makes sense," Isley said. Humans did that sort of thing all of the time, and, unlike Van, Andre had been a decent human being.

"So, didn't you ever go after the Purge survivors?" Van asked.

"That would have been just plain vindictive, not to mention, a slap in the face to my human self," Isley said.

"So sentimental," Van said. "What does it say, that you have more human emotions than I do?"

"Nothing good about you," Isley said matter-of-factly.

"So, how many people did you save?" Van asked.

"You'd know if you were there," Isley said.

"Yeah, well, as I recall, a certain somebody tried to kill me and chased me off into the wilds before there ever even was a Purge," Van said. "Don't change the subject, though. How many people did you save?"

"Almost everyone," Isley said.

"_Almost_ everyone? Who died? Anyone important to you? Oh, it was, wasn't it? Let's see...who...Duff? No, I heard that he was with Riful now. Rigald? No, he died just recently, if my sources are to be believed. Alexander? Venus? I wonder," Van mused.

"Are you trying to annoy me?" Isley asked, bemused. "For one thing, it is seriously not a good idea to piss off an Abyssal One. For another, that's pathetic. None of those people mean anything to me anymore. I'm not human. For a third thing, you needn't bother. Your very existence annoys me. I wish you would just Awaken and be done with it--it would improve your personality."

Van laughed. "Was that an insult, a compliment, or honest advice?"

"Yes," said Isley. His arm turned into a bow. "Now, then, I'm beginning to tire of you, so get back to torturing small animals, or whatever it is that you're doing these days."

"Alright, I'm leaving," said Van, getting up. "It's good to know that I got under your skin, though."

"You misunderstand," Isley said. "It is simply that, as an Awakened Being, I have no ethical qualms about killing you in cold blood. You see, yoma morality pretty much consists of 'take what you want and to hell with everyone else.' See what I mean about you Awakening would be a good thing?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Van said, walking away. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. "I like being me too much." And then he slipped off into the darkness.

"Why didn't I kill him?" Priscilla demanded.

"I don't know, why didn't you? He answered my question," Isley said.

"Can I kill him now?"

"If you think it's worthwile to hunt him down and do so, be my guest," Isley said. "He means nothing to me anymore."

Priscilla thought about it. "To hell with it. His guts would taste nasty, anyway."

"It's time we get back to Raki," Isley said. "I don't like the idea of leaving him unguarded with that guy wandering around."

"You think he would try something?" Priscilla asked.

Isley shrugged. "Maybe. Can you sense his yoma energy?"

"No," said Priscilla.

"Me, neither," said Isley. "He's been hiding his yoma energy so long that we can't sense him. He could be hiding just outside of earshot, for all we know. He couldn't face you or I, of course, but he would be able to easily overcome Raki."

"Why would he, though?" Priscilla asked.

Isley shrugged. "Out of some deep-seeded hatred for me, in order to perform expiriments on, just because he feels like it, take your pick. It doesn't really matter." They found the camp site, and found Raki unmolested.

"So, what is this 'Purge' thing he was talking about?" Priscilla asked.

Isley sighed. "The story I'm telling you...it does not have a happy ending," he said.

"Sure it does," Priscilla said. "You're here, with me, and we're going to kill Luciella."

Isley smiled. "I meant, from a human perspective," he said. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch in order to make sure that idiot doesn't come back and try anything stupid."

"What a headache. We should have just killed him," Priscilla said, crawling into bed with Raki.

The hours passed, and the stars made their way across the sky. The sun came up over the horizon. And then Raki woke up. "Why didn't you wake me for my shift?" he asked.

"Young kid like you needs his sleep," Isley said.

"Damn it, don't baby me! I want to pull my weight," Raki said.

"Hmm, I see. I'm sorry," Isley said.

"Are you going to be alright?" Raki asked. "You didn't sleep..."

"Don't worry, I can sleep in the saddle," Isley said. "You'll have to hold the reigns of my horse, though, so that I don't wake up in the middle of bumfuck nowhere." after a light breakfast, the group picked up their campsite and mounted their horses.

"Hey, Isley...does this clearing look a bit different than it did last night, or is it just me?" Raki asked.

"It was dark last night," Isley said. "Things look different in low light. Now then, lead the way."

"What? But, I don't know where we're going," Raki protested.

"We're going to the southern lands. Just keep heading south until we hit something, and we won't end up too far off course," Isley said.

"Um...okay," said Raki.

Isley wasn't lying about being able to sleep in the saddle if he wanted to or had to, but that wasn't his plan. He tied himself to the saddle, as he would have done if he were going to sleep for real, and he closed his eyes, concentrating his senses and looking for yoma energy, until he could sense for miles. He wasn't concerned about Van--after all, Van hadn't of been a match for Isley when he had been a Claymore, much less now that he was an awakened being and Van was still a Claymore. Still, knowing that there were things out there that he could not sense was disconcerting. A yoma energy signature went out at the edge of his senses, just abruptly flickering out, like a candle flame. Holy hell, had that have been Van? Isley knew he was fast, but damn...

Of course, the yoma could have just of done something stupid, tripped over its feet and fell over a cliff, or something. Or maybe it had gone out of range. Or maybe it was hiding it's energy for some reason. _Or maybe someone else you can't sense killed it._ Isley had not lied to Van--he had saved a lot of people from the Purge. It was only logical to assume that some of them were still alive--every once in a while, one would awaken, and then he or she would find him and join his army, perhaps out of some bizarre form of gratitude, perhaps because they sensed that he was one of the most powerful beings on the planet, perhaps something else. Isley had never asked. And it was too late now, as they were all now marching to their deaths. Some had awakened, and some had undoubtedly died over the long, long years, but surely, not all?

Ah, well. It was none of Isley's concern. Isley came back to himself when they stopped for lunch. "Isley, if you're not too tired, I'd like you to train me some more," Raki said.

Isley had to smile; the boy had spunk. "Tired? I'm refreshed and eager to give my muscles a good workout. Besides, you couldn't beat me if I had been up for a week straight." And so they fought. Raki was putting his all into it. Isley was barely even trying. He was thinking more about where he wanted this training to go than he was about the actual fight he was participating in. The boy wanted to not be a burden to a Claymore, which meant, Isley supposed, his primary goal for the lad should be to teach him how to fight when woefully outmatched in speed and strength, as he would be if he were attacked by a yoma and there was no one there to protect him. It was theoretically possible for a human to beat a yoma in single combat, if the human were really good and the yoma was really green. Perhaps, one day, Isley would find out.

Speed would be the main thing--his only chance of winning a fight with a yoma would be to hit it before it realized that he knew what he was doing. Speed, dexterity, reflexes. The ability to think on his feet. Strength, not as much as one might think. Raki would never be able to out strength a yoma worthy of its name. Of course, no human could equal a yoma in any of the categories Isley had just listed, but they'd help him outmaneuver it, at least. Maybe.

He'd never let Raki win, Isley decided. That way, the boy would always have something to strive for. It would be totally unattainable, but it was that kind of perseverance he'd need if he was to have any hope in a fight with a yoma. He'd eventually figure out that Isley was more than human, but he'd eventually figure that out, anyway, if he was observant enough--after all, Isley and Priscilla weren't perfect. They'd slip up, eventually, and weren't as good of actors where they could masquerade as humans forever.

"I realized something," Raki said, collapsed on the ground and panting.

"Yeah?" asked Isley.

"There's another possibility," Raki said.

"And what would that be?" asked Isley.

"You could really be Isley the Abyssal One, could really have the ability to turn me into a Claymore, and could be lying about male Claymores not being at any agravated risk of Awakening in order to get me to Awaken, going to the point of fabricating the story you've been telling me," Raki said. "You've been teasing me with this are-you-or-aren't-you for days...why didn't you mention the possibility of that? It seems like something you'd do."

"I'm just going to come right out and say it, for once: that is not the case," Isley said. "I didn't mention the possibility because the question I want you to be asking yourself isn't 'Can Isley be trusted?' It's 'Do I _really_ want to be a Claymore?' Whatever the case may be as to our true identities, know that Priscilla and I are your friends, Raki."

Raki looked him in the eye, and nodded. "Okay. I trust you," he said. "Tell me, though...would Clare be your friend?"

Isley grinned. "Sure. Provided she doesn't try to kill us."

They set off again, and didn't stop until they hit a city. The city reminded Raki of Rabona, but then, Rabona was the only real city Raki had ever been in. "Raki, Priscilla and I have something we have to do. Some business we have to take care of. We're going to be leaving you here for a few days, a week at most."

"This reminds me of when Clare would leave me in a nearby town before heading off to fight yoma," Raki said. "You're not heading off right away, are you?"

"No, it's too late to be traveling, and we've got to get you situated yet," Isley said. "Besides, why pass up an opportunity to sleep in a real bed?"

They found a hotel without too much trouble, rented a room, had a large, freshly made meal, bathed, and headed off to bed.

"There's only one bed," Raki pointed out.

"Someone will have to sleep on the floor," Isley observed.

"I'll do it," Priscilla said. "I wouldn't want you guys to miss out on a soft bed on my account."

"Ah...the thing is..." Raki stammered.

"I think there'll be enough room for three," Isley said, bemused.

"Are you sure that that wouldn't be...weird?" Raki asked.

"Shouldn't be too weird if Priscilla is in the middle, or at least not much weirder than it's ever been," Isley said. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he added, "Why? You weren't planning on doing anything with Priscilla tonight, were you?"

"Oh, ha, ha," Raki said, not even phased by the teasing at this point. "That reminds me, though. You say you're a couple, but I've never seen you...ah..." he stopped, too embarrassed to go any further.

"Well, of course we wouldn't do it while you're around," Isley said. "We're not complete freaks, after all. Truth be told, that was a minor incentive to get away from you for a couple of days."

"Oh," Raki said, blushing. "You could get your own room, you know..."

"Why bother? A day never hurt anyone, and besides, we're incredibly frugal people," Isley said.

"And I want to cuddle with you," Priscilla said, hug-groping him from behind.

They climbed into bed, and then Isley said, "Alright, I suppose it's time for me to continue the story. Who knows? I might even be able to finish it, tonight."

"You know what would have made the story more interesting?" Raki led.

"What?" asked Isley.

"If Isley and Rigald had both been dating Emily," Raki said.

Isley laughed. "Now that would have been a freaky parallel to our situation. But it's not what happened. In fact, Rigald was dating someone else at the time--a human woman."

"Yes, you've mentioned her in passing," Raki said. "Didn't even tell us her name."

"Oh?" said Isley. "That is about to change..."


	9. Children

_**AN:**__ I went over this TWICE, correcting spelling errors. God, I hope I got all of them. Oh, and would it kill you people to R&R?_

The First Generation

S-Michael

Chapter 6:

Children

They finally had official rankings, now that there were nearly twenty of them and more on the way. Isley looked at the listings:

#1: Isley

#2: Rigald

#3: Duff

#4: Venus

#5: Van

Isley looked down the rest of the chart for Alexander and Andre. Alexander was number nine. Andre, disconcertingly, was number twenty one. There were only twenty two warriors of the organization.

"Congratulations," Andre said, showing up. "On being number one, I mean."

"Yeah, and I see that you're..."

"Yeah," Andre said. "I'm the worst."

"Hey, now, there's someone worse than you," Isley said.

"A blind shaker. I should bloody well hope that I'm better than her," Andre said. The derisiveness with which he said it reminded Isley that he had never known Arthur. No one who knew Arthur could ever had been derisive of him. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've got the best ability to sense yoma energy of us all--hell, I run circles around everybody in that department, but I just don't have the speed or strength to act on it."

"Don't worry, if you train, learn to predict your enemies' movements, you'll do better," Isley said encouragingly.

"_Learn_ to predict my enemies movements? You don't understand how good my ability to sense yoma is--by reading yoma energy, I literally know how my opponent is going to move before he even initiates it, often before he knows what he is doing himself!" Andre said. "I lose anyway, because I am not fast enough to act on it. Isley...I wish I was more like you."

What do you say, when someone says something like that? Isley didn't consider himself a role model--surely, he was too young for people to be looking up to. He wasn't a hero, or something... _Not a hero? You kill yoma for a living! Have you got any idea how crazy that is?_ You take things for granted, and sometimes you realize that it's completely crazy, and it's a breathtaking moment. _This isn't the time to be distracted. Think of something to say!_ "Andre, you're not me. You're you, and you have your own personal strengths and weaknesses, which are different than mine, and so you can't be me, and shouldn't try. You should try to be the best you that you can be. You can overcome weaknesses, or even turn them into strengths. Until recently, the strongest fighter in the Organization was a blind woman. Andre, I..."

"Isley, you've got a mission," Rubel said, showing up out of nowhere. "Find Rigald and report to my office."

Isley jumped. "How do you _do_ that?"

"It's called skill," Rubel said. "Now, go find Rigald, and report to my office."

"Yes, sir," Isley said. "Remember what I said, Andre," and he walked away. To find Rigald, Isley simply looked for the most powerful yoma signature aside from himself. It lead him outside of the compound, and into Sutafu proper. Isley followed a twisting maze of buildings, until he found Rigald, talking to a very pregnant human woman. "Hey, Rigald: Rubel has a mission for us."

"What are you doing here?" Rigald demanded.

"Uh, looking for you. Like I said, Rubel has a mission for us," Isley said.

"Friend of yours?" the woman asked Rigald.

"If you want to call it that. This is Isley," Rigald said.

"Oh, so you're the number one fighter in the Organization," the woman said (much to Rigald's annoyance). She stuck out her hand. "I'm Annabel. Pleased to meet you."

Isley took her hand and shook it awkwardly. "...Likewise," he said.

She kissed Rigald's cheek. "Well, I shouldn't keep you. I'll see you around, my Silver-Eyed Lion King," she said.

Isley grinned evilly. "'Silver-Eyed Lion King? Oh, I am going to get _sooo_ much mileage out of this one!"

Rigald glared at Isley. "You do, and you die."

Isley laughed. "Whatever you say...Silver-Eyed Lion King." And then seriously, "Would this be the reason you looked so concerned when you heard about Venus' and Alexander's baby?"

Rigald sighed. "Yeah. The baby she is carrying is mine. I have heard rumors, about the babies that are born to us being stillborn or dying shortly after birth, and I'm...concerned."

Isley squeezed Rigald's shoulder affectionately. "Come on. Lets not keep Rubel waiting." And so they returned to the Organization, and went to Rubel's office. "You wanted to see us, sir?"

"Yes," Rubel said. "Over the past month, there have been a rash of disappearances in Sutafu and the surrounding area. Small children have been disappearing in the dead of night from their homes, usually to turn up dead and disemboweled weeks later."

"Do you think it's a yoma?" Rigald asked.

Rubel shook his head. "Not really, and for several reasons. Yoma don't usually go after children unless they're starving--there's simply not enough meat on their bones. The fact that there were usually adults in the houses with the children, and that they were untouched, emphasizes the point. Secondly, yoma tend to kill and eat their victims on the spot. Abducting their victims and returning their corpses later is simply not their style. Thirdly the bodies seemed to have been cut up with some sort of edged weapon, and the innards, while moved around and chopped up, seem to all be there. The wounds are sometimes stitched up, or show some signs of healing. Besides, I've asked the best sensors, and none of them have sensed anything out of the ordinary."

"Sounds like a human psychopath," Isley said. "Why are we getting involved?"

"Because people think that it's a yoma," Rubel said. "There are a couple of eyewitness accounts, which speak of a cloaked figure who has superhuman speed and strength. I don't want people thinking that Sutafu could ever be infested with a yoma, so find this killer, and kill him. You're dismissed."

Isley and Rigald left the office. "So, you got any ideas about how we go about this?"

"Why don't you decide, oh glorious Number One?"

Isley sighed. "Rigald..."

"We find out who has been hit last, and we stake out their house. If the killer returns the body, we've got him," Rigald said.

Isley shrugged. "That's as good a plan as any," he said.

-

Isley and Rigald sat hidden in an otherwise empty house across the street from the latest victims with all the lights turned off. Night had fallen several hours ago, and they were bored. "You know, if it is a yoma that's doing this, as soon as it senses us, it'll run," Isley said.

"I doubt it. Even if it realizes that we're warriors of the Organization and not yoma, creatures which wouldn't give a shit what it was doing, it's not exactly anomalous for us silver-eyed folk to shack up with the locals around here," Rigald pointed out.

"Hm," Isley conceded. "So, you and this Annibel person...you serious?"

"Yeah," Rigald said. "We're actually engaged. The wedding will be in September."

"Oh? This is the first I've heard of this," said Isley.

"That's because this is the first I've actually told anyone of this," Rigald said. "I just don't know how to go about asking Rimuto for some time off." Rigald was slightly embarrassed as he said this.

"Why don't you ask Rubel, Silver-Eyed Lion King?" Isley asked.

"Stop calling me that, already," Rigald said. "Rubel's not much better than Rimuto, now that Emily's dead and Arthur's...what would you call it?"

"I believe the term we're going with is 'Awakened Being,'" Isley said.

Rigald frowned. "I don't like that. It makes it sound like a good thing, like it's positive. You know, 'my eyes were clouded, yet now I see,'" he said.

"You have a point there," said Isley, though that had never crossed his mind. "So, where are you getting married?"

"The Temple of Rabona," Rigald said.

"Why not the Temple of Teresa and Clare?" Isley asked.

"Worship of them has really gone out of favor, you know," Rigald said.

"What? Really?" asked Isley, surprised. "Why?"

"I don't know why, but yeah. Really," Rigald said.

"My parents were always adherents of them," Isley said.

"Maybe they'll come back into favor," Rigald reassured him. "Who knows? The masses are fickle, with regard to their gods."

"It's just...amazing," Isley said. "I remember hearing tales of their numerous adventures, exploits, and lovers throughout my childhood."

"That might explain why you were so permissive of Emily sleeping around on you."

"That's so funny, I forgot to laugh," Isley said dryly.

"So, what about you?" Rigald asked. "Are you seeing anybody?" Isley shook his head. "Still too soon?" Rigald asked.

"No, it's not even that," Isley said. "It's just that..." he sighed, thinking of a way to explain it. "Well, as you might imagine, my entire family were killed by a yoma. Part of the reason I wanted to be with Emily was because she was the strongest warrior in the organization--she wasn't going to die on me." In a dark way, it was kind of funny.

"Wow," Rigald said, in a _you're boned_ tone of voice. "So, basically, any woman who is going to be with you has to be the most powerful creature in the whole world?"

"Pretty much," Isley said self-deprecatingly.

"Wow," Rigald said again. Then grinned. "Too bad the only Awakened Being in existence is the wrong sex."

Isley punched him lightly. "Oh, ha, ha." Then: "You sense that?"

"Yeah," Rigald said. "A powerful yoma signature--and it seems to be coming this way." The signature seemed familiar, but Isley couldn't quite place it. A cloked figure appeared out of nowhere, dropped the corpse of a small child on the house's doorstep, and dissappeared. "Holly crap, it's one of us!" said Rigald. They unsheathed their swords, jumped though the open window, and chased after the killer, who ran off into the wilderness. The killer entered a cave, and the two warriors followed after him, though they could hear crying and whimpering children from outside.

"Isley. Rigald. Welcome to my humble laboratory," said the killer.

"What the hell are you doing, Van?" Isley demanded, for of course it was he.

"As you predicted, they never did let me watch how they turned humans into Silver-Eyed Warlocks, Isley," Van said. "They don't want the information in too many hands, and besides, I'm on Rubel's permanent shit list. So, I thought I'd try to find out on my own. None of my test subjects have survived long, though." He pointed to a child who was on the floor on his back, moaning in pain. The complicated wound on his stomach looked infected. "That one has lasted the longest, and he doesn't have that much longer to live, i don't think."

"Why would you do this?" Rigald demanded.

"They took my child away," Van said. "There's this girl I was seeing." (_What girl would be crazy enough to date you?_ Isley wondered.) "She birthed my daughter. I went away on a mission, and when I returned, the baby was gone. She claimed that it had died suddenly, but it had been perfectly healthy when I had seen it last, and besides, I can tell when she lies to me. And so...I got the truth from her," Van grinned. "A man in black with a shawl hiding his face took it, and told my woman to tell me she had died. Tell me, you know anyone matching that description?" He was of course referring to Ermita. "Likely, this is the truth behind all of the alleged miscarriages and sudden infant deaths that plague our children. And there is no mystery as to why they would do this, either; we're better than humans, so why wouldn't we replace them, if given the opportunity? Think about it: a world filled with our silver-eyed children, a new race, better than the old...a 'master race,' if you will. And, if I manage to create half-breeds who are outside of the Organization's control, there will be nothing stopping the new race."

Isley thought of a world of silver-eyed, blond-haired immortals. "And this is how you justify what you're doing to these children?" he demanded. He and Rigald charged him, but Van was fast, and jumped over them, heading towards the entrance. They chased after him, slashing at him with their claymores, but the criminal parried, running backwards. Van's greatest strength had always been his speed. Isley remembered that even on their first mission, Van had moved faster than the eye could see when he pulled that bandit's guts from his body. He was running backwards as fast as either of them were running forwards, and both of them were higher ranks than he was. Isley grazed his stomach with the tip of his sword once. It was deep enough to have been fatal to a human, but shallow enough not to be fatal to a warrior of the Organization. Isley had been trying to cut him in two. The look on Van's face revealed that he knew that, though he was faster than either of them, he knew that he was severely outclassed. He had never beaten either one of them even once in the tournament to decide the ranks, and now they were aiming to kill. Van got serious. He turned and fled at full speed, dropping his sword, even though such an object wouldn't slow down a warrior of the Organization overmuch. Isley and Rigald gave chase, but knew that they were not going to catch him. He lost them, but they didn't make it easy for him, chasing him until he fell completely off their radar at around dawn.

"That's the second time we've let a super-powerful bad guy escape into the wilderness," Rigald said, panting. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yeah," Isley said. "We totally suck."

-

Rubel listened to their story. "I will of course tell the other members of the Organization, but you must say nothing of this to anyone," he said. "We'll tell your fellow warriors that Van has Awakened, just like Arthur, and we'll tell the people of Sutafu that it was a yoma, and that we killed it. No charge, though, because we live here."

"Is what he said true?" Rigald asked. "About you people abducting our offspring?"

Rubel looked at him. "No. Why would you believe anything Van says?"

Isley and Rigald exchanged glances. Neither of them believed him. "What should we do about those kids still in the cave?"

"From what you said, it doesn't sound like they've got long to live. You might as well put them out of their misery," Rubel said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting to get to."

Isley and Rigald left. "So...you think Rubel lied to us?" Isley asked.

"Yeah," said Rigald.

"So, then, what are we going to do about it?" asked Isley.

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Rigald asked.

"I assume you don't want your child to be killed," Isley said.

"Like I said: What do you mean, 'we'?" repeated Rigald.

"Well, I haven't actually told anyone about Annabel's pregnancy. I'm thinking that maybe, if I tell her to leave, I can pretend that we broke up, or something," Rigald said.

"Are you sure that you can stand never seeing your child, and never seeing your fiance again?

"If that's what it take for them to live," Rigald said. "It's really up to her, though. Whether she wants to stay, get married, and have a life without children, or run and protect our child. I don't want to force her into anything."

"Good man," Isley said. They left for Annabel's house.

"You mind? This is personal," Rigald said.

"Right, I'll hang back," said Isley. This was almost right at Annabel's door, though, so Isley was well within earshot while they were talking. Rigald knocked on the door, and she came out.

"What's the matter, my Silver-Eyed Lion King? Pre-wedding jitters?" She smiled sweetly as she said this.

"I wish it were that simple," Rigald said. "You see, I have reason to believe that the Organization have...done away with children of my kind, and will continue to do so. Including our child."

"Why?" Annabel asked.

"According to my source, they're afraid that if we're allowed to breed, we're eventually going to wipe out and replace humanity," Rigald said.

"Do you trust your source?" Annabel asked.

"In general, not as far as I can throw him. Which is actually pretty damn far. But on this...I think he's telling the truth," Rigald said. "Besides, I wouldn't put it past them. It seems like something they'd do."

Annabel sighed. "The truth is, I've heard...rumors. No one says it very loud, or in the open, but some say that something like that happens." She looked at Rigald pleadingly. "What do we do?"

"I don't think anyone at the Organization knows that you're pregnant with my baby, yet, aside from Isley there. If youskip town, go into hiding...our child might make it. But it would mean that we'd never see each other again," Rigald said. "Or...we could go with the other option. You could stay. We could go about our plans like we were planning on, get married in September...and forget about having children."

"My god," Annabel said, tears running down her cheeks. "Do you have any idea the choice you're asking me to make? So, I can have my child, or my man, but not both?"

"I'm sorry, Annabel. I never wanted to do this to you," Rigald said. "Know, though, that whatever you decide, I won't love you any less."

-

Rubel sat at a table with his compatriots and recited what Rigald and Isley had told him.

"What did you tell them of Van's accusations?"

"I claimed that they were false."

"Did they believe you?"

"Maybe. I don't think so."

"Will they tell anyone of their suspicions?"

"Maybe. I don't think so. If they tell anyone, it'll be Alexander and Venus, and Venus is our creature."

"It will be unfortunate if the warriors learn of this."

"It was a stopgap measure to begin with, not a true solution to our problem."

"How extensive is our problem?"

"The females don't seem to be having too many children, and, obviously, we'd know about the ones they do have. Besides which, it's harder for them to find sex partners amongst the humans than it is for the males. The males, however, have it easy in that department, and have been having bastard children, some of them in droves."

"Yes, it seems that it is the male warriors where the real problem lays. We can order the females to have abortions, worst case scenario; tell them that childbearing is dangerous for half-breeds, or something. But we have to do something about the male warriors."

"Castrate them when we make them, perhaps? Tell them it's a part of the transformation process."

"No, that may have adverse effect on their physical development. It seems that the best way to solve the problem of the male warriors is to not have male warriors at all."

"Before we do anything drastic, what are the numbers we're talking about here?"

"Of the seven pre-batch warriors, five are male; of the five first batch warriors, four are male; of the ten second batch warriors, seven are male; we also have three batches of warriors-in-training, of which seven are male, five are male, and six are male, respectively, bringing us to a total of thirty four males out of a total population of fifty two."

"You expect to get rid of thirty four people? Not to mention, anyone who objects to this?"

"Do you really want to face the consequences if we don't?"

"I want more detail on the problem at hand before we make a decision."

"There have been a total of thirty six children born to men of the Organization over the past two decades, and we found that an overwhelming majority of those children have been female. As a matter of fact, it appears that while some of the men can sire male or female children, others can only sire females."

"Interesting. Say, what sex were the yoma put into each kind?"

"We do not keep track of that kind of thing, and besides, a yoma's sex is not very obvious."

"Is it true that some of them have normal, human offspring?"

"Yes. Apparently human, at any rate, such as Van's recent offspring. The men who sire these appear to be a different 'type' than the 'type' that sire only daughters and the 'type' that sire either sex, and much, much rarer. In fact, Van is only the second of his kind to sire the apparently human offspring."

"Who was the first?"

"Arthur."

"Ouch. Apparently, temperament plays no part in this."

"What of female warriors?"

"There have been only been five pregnancies carried to term, which is not nearly enough for any accuracy. Still, there have been nearly as many apparently-human children born to the females as the males, which would indicate that this 'type' is much more prevalent amongst females than males. Also, a few of them seem to be sterile."

"Can you be sure that they weren't just chaste?"

"With some of them, no, but with others, yes. Emily was never pregnant, and she had more sexual partners than some of the men."

"Okay, it is abundantly clear which sex would be the better one to keep, even without that thorough. The question is, how do we get rid of thirty four warriors and potential warriors? Especially without destroying our reputation, cutting our legs out from under us, or demoralizing the survivors?"

"Before we go into detail, we should vote on whether or not we _should_ go about this rather extreme course of action. All in favor, say yea, all opposed, say nae." They voted. "Four in favor, two against. The motion passes. Now then, is the matter of how we are to accomplish this..."


End file.
